Shattered
by InfinityStar
Summary: One of these days he would push it too far, antagonize the wrong suspect or step too hard on the wrong toes. One of these days he was going to fall. Casefile set in S4.
1. Prelude

**A/N: The main body of this story takes place in Season 4, but this prelude takes place in the middle of Season 2. **

**Last week, my 20-year-old, who is a college student 2000 miles away (an English and Philosophy major with a concentration in writing), was diagnosed with insulin-dependent (Type 1 or juvenile) diabetes. When she was 12, she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Since she is her mother's child, she faced this life-changing diagnosis by shaking a fist at fate and asking "I'm a bipolar diabetic! What else ya got?" For her, the most disappointing prospect of her entire situation is that she has wanted to give Katie (my 10-year-old on dialysis) a kidney since she was born, when Jessie was 10. Now, she can't and she found that to be more devastating, initially, than the diagnosis. Of course, now she is panicking about all the ramifications of the disease ("Mom, I want a cupcake!") and how she must work a regular eating routine into her schedule of full-time classes and full-time work. As for me, I learned a very long time ago never to ask the question "What next?" For me, _that _is the question God answers. People ask us "Who did you piss off?" and the motto of my life has become a quote from Mother Theresa: "I know God will never give me more than I can handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much."  
**

**So in the wake of this tsunami, I bring you another story...enjoy. (I am inclined to warn you not to expect too much fluff...)  
**

**Of course, all the usual disclaimers apply.**

* * *

"You son of a bitch!"

The enraged man bolted from his seat, grabbing the chair in both hands and hurling it at the empty space where his interrogators had just been. The chair sailed through the air and hit the one-way glass, shattering it into razor sharp shards.

Goren charged from the corner where he'd shielded his partner from stray shards of flying glass and grabbed the suspect, throwing him against the wall and holding him in place with his weight. The uniformed officers cuffed him and dragged him away, screaming, with his lawyer in tow, shaking her head.

Turning toward the gaping hole in the wall, Goren approached the window, looking apologetically at Deakins. Carver had gone with the defendant to talk a deal with his lawyer. Deakins sighed and shook his head before leaving the room to put in a requisition for repairs.

Eames stepped up to her partner's side, remembering another case that had ended almost the same way, a year and a half ago. Henry Talbot. She still shuddered with revulsion at the memory of him. She glanced at Goren, wondering if he remembered. Of course he did. But it wasn't Talbot he would recall first when he thought of the case; it was Angie Suarez, one of Talbot's victims. Talbot had not made much of an impression on Goren; he'd had fun berating the slimy lawyer about his size. But Angie...Angie had left a mark, even though he'd never met her in life. It was Angie he would remember. In the end, it was usually the victims who got to him.

Eames shook her head slowly. "One of these days, you're going to push it too far, Bobby," she cautioned.

He didn't react and she knew it was advice he would not heed. He would always push the limits. Whatever it took to get a confession, he would do. He could be very single-minded, which was often a good thing. Almost as often, though, it was a bad thing. For her, the most frustrating part of it all was the unpredictability; she never knew whether his zeal would be good or bad. Getting Talbot had been a good thing. Angie Suarez had made a lasting impression on Goren, and he regretted her death, even though they'd gotten her killer. Justice had been served too late. The other side of the coin was Nicole Wallace, who had taken part of him with her when she'd fled several months ago, and all his attempts to find her had come up empty. It troubled her deeply to watch him spinning his wheels, knowing he would never give up. Goren did not have it in him to concede defeat; he did not have the heart of a quitter.

Quietly, she added, "One of these times, you are not going to come out on top, you know."

Finally, he moved, shifting in that restless way of his. He slid his hand along the back of his neck. "I know," he concurred.

"Then what?"

"Then...then I depend on you to pull my ass out of the fire."

"And if I can't?"

He shifted his gaze from the shattered glass to his partner. "Then I'll get burned," he answered, and he left the room.

With a heavy sigh of resignation, Eames followed, wondering just which one of them was going to get burned when he finally fell.


	2. High School Rivalry

There was no missing the crime scene. A small group of crime scene techs were working near the sidelines on the field's fifty-yard-line. Nearby, the school's team was gathered with their coaches, watching. The silence that echoed across the field was eerie. Not far from the team, the coroner's 'meat wagon' was parked.

As Goren and Eames approached the scene, Rodgers looked up from where she was bent over the body of a young man in full football gear. "Matthew Barrister, seventeen. He took a hit in practice and never got up."

"Who hit him?" Eames asked.

Rodgers nodded toward the group of players downfield. "The big kid there in the number fifteen; his name is Roger Lassiter. Apparently, there was some kind of rivalry between these two boys, but I didn't get the details."

While Goren knelt across from Rodgers to do his thing with the victim, Eames walked toward the team. Beyond the gathered boys, blocked from the view across the field, was a group of students in uniform; several of the girls were crying and being comforted by the others. She started by addressing one of the coaches. "I'm Detective Eames. What happened here?"

Before the coach could answer, one of the players whistled. "A detective?" he said. "I didn't know they came in your style."

One of his teammates took the bait. "What style is that, Marcus?"

"Sex-y," he replied, and the boys around him laughed.

The coach glared at the young man. "Enough, Richmond. Give me twenty laps. Now. You other clowns can join him. Go!"

The players took off running and the coach returned his attention to Eames. "I'm sorry about that, detective." He extended his hand. "Carl Fredericks, the team's head coach."

She accepted his offered hand and his apology. "Can you tell me what happened, Mr. Fredericks?"

"We were running through our defensive plays. Matt was on the defensive side and Roger was on the offensive side. These boys have a history of animosity, and we try to keep them apart in practice, but somehow they both ended up on the same side of the line. When the play started, my quarterback fell back, looking for an opening. Roger tackled Matt and when the play was over, Matt didn't get up. We ran out onto the field, but it was too late. That's all I know."

"Did Roger say anything about it?"

"All he said is that he just tackled him." Fredericks looked across the field at the boys who were running laps. "I don't think Roger realizes the serious nature of this. He's a spoiled, cocky kid. Matt was more down-to-earth, and Roger looked down on him for it."

"You said there was animosity between them. What did you mean?"

Fredericks nodded his head toward the group of students standing near the bleachers. "See the girls who are crying over there? The stunning blond is Kelly Larimer. Roger wanted her but Matt got her. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. The boys never got along but things took an ugly turn at the beginning of the year when Kelly transferred in."

Eames felt rather than heard her partner's approach and she turned to look at him. Introducing him to the coach, she recapped what he had just told her. Goren looked toward the girls, then back at the coach. "Did Kelly ever show any interest in Roger?"

"Initially, yes. He's a handsome kid and a star player."

Eames snorted. "Every girl wants to date the football star."

Fredericks nodded with a smile. "Very true. But once she realized he has a very...forceful personality, she backed off. Matt was much quieter, much more her type, apparently. All I know is that, from what I could tell, Matt treated her right, which is something I don't think Roger has in him. I've heard some scuttlebutt about Roger being furious over the situation, some rumors of vague threats, and we've broken up a couple of fights after practices, but once I threatened to kick them off the team, everything seemed to settle down."

* * *

As they crossed the field on the way back to their vehicle, Eames said, "You couldn't pay me enough to go back to high school."

Goren smiled, but neither agreed nor disagreed with her sentiment. She looked up at his face. "Don't tell me you liked high school."

He shrugged. "It had its moments."

Her mouth quirked into a half-grin. "Oh? What was her name?"

With a laugh, he answered, "Monica."

In spite of Eames' cajoling, he would say no more. Once they were in the car, she put the key in the ignition and turned in her seat. "All right, then, let me guess. She was a tall, leggy brunette with a knockout figure who was amazing in bed."

Goren leaned his head back. "Nice image, but not even close."

"Come on, Bobby. 'Fess up."

He let out a slow breath as his eyes wandered over the main building of the elite, Upper West Side private school, touched by tragedy. He moistened his lips and answered, "She was little, not much bigger than you are. Strawberry blonde, a slow bloomer." The look in his eyes grew distant as his mind turned into the past. "She wasn't a bombshell, but she was cute as hell." He was quiet for a few moments, lost in his memories. "She loved to make out," he added with a wistful smile. "She was a real firecracker."

With a grin, Eames started the car. "She made high school worthwhile?"

"Parts of it, yes." He turned toward her, his gaze intense. "And who did the prom queen date?"

"The football star, who else?"

He studied her quietly, looking away just before she got uncomfortable. "Did you play football?" she asked.

"Yeah, but I didn't have the heart for it. For me, it was...more about not going home than about the sport."

His answer made her regret asking, and she refrained from any more questions. Some things were better left alone, and that was one of them in her mind. She couldn't help the sorrow that welled in her gut when they talked about his childhood.

He sensed the reason for her sudden silence as they drove away from the school. He leaned forward in his seat. "It's all right, Eames."

She knew it wasn't, but she nodded and the conversation was over. His busy mind moved back to the case and she concentrated on the traffic. Neither said anything more about it.

* * *

Football practice was canceled for the next few days, and it didn't take long for the detectives to discover that Roger Lassiter was not happy about that turn of events. When practice resumed, Goren and Eames showed up to watch. Sitting in the bleachers while the boys warmed up, Eames watched Lassiter and his interactions with his teammates while Goren studied the students that trickled in as practice began in earnest.

Twenty minutes into the practice, Goren slid his arm toward his partner, meaning to tap her arm. Not paying attention, his hand came into contact with her thigh. Embarrassed, he yanked his hand away as if he'd been burned. "Uh, sorry." He motioned to the next set of bleachers, where a group of girls had just settled in. "Matt's girlfriend is with them. I'm going to talk to her. Do you want to strike up a conversation with one of her friends? I'd like to know what the general perception was of their relationship and of her interactions with Lassiter."

She agreed. "Sounds like a plan."

They made their way over to the girls, and Goren sat down beside Kelly, who was at the edge of the group. Leaning forward, he gave her a warm smile. "Hi...Kelly, isn't it?"

She looked at him, nodding warily. He understood her reticence and shifted on the metal seat. "I, uh, I'm Detective Goren." He motioned toward Eames, who had struck up an easy conversation with the other girls. "My partner, Detective Eames, and I are looking into what happened here the other day."

Kelly looked around the field, noticing Roger Lassiter, who was staring toward her. Goren followed her eyes and watched as one of the other players nudged him and whispered into his ear. They both laughed and ran out onto the field with the others to begin scrimmaging. Goren watched for a few minutes, noticing that Lassiter looked toward them often. He leaned toward Kelly. "Would you...take a walk with me?"

She looked at him, studying his face as he tried not to appear intimidating. Finally, she nodded. Rising, he stepped over the seat onto the level above them and let Kelly precede him to the aisle and down to the field. As they crossed in front of the bleachers, Goren glanced at his partner, who gave him a 'where are you going?' look. His expression changed to one that said 'trust me.'

"Where are you going, Kelly?" one of the girls called.

"I'll be right back," she replied in an offhand way.

As Goren followed Kelly off the field, he studied her. Eames told him that the coach had described her as 'stunning,' and he found the adjective accurate. She was a beautiful girl. He fell into step beside her and asked, "How long were you and Matt dating?"

She folded her arms around her middle, hugging herself as if to stave off a stomach ache. "Since the end of September."

"You're a transfer student?"

She nodded. " My father is the country's ambassador to England. He and my mother decided that it would be in my best interest if I spent my last year of high school back here in New York, so here I am."

"How do you feel about that?"

With a shrug, she answered, "I don't know. I miss my brother a lot. We've lived in London for the last eight years, so this is...different."

He nodded agreement. "What do you know about Roger Lassiter?"

"Roger...is an egomaniac. He started hitting on me the first day of school." She made a face and shuddered. "I've had my fill of boys like him, and I kept turning him down, but he's not one to take a hint. I heard he was really angry when I started dating Matt."

"He and Matt were rivals?"

"Oh, yes. They hated each other."

They walked in silence for a few minutes and she seemed to relax. He continued to focus his attention on her. "Tell me about Matt."

Her arms tightened around her stomach. "He was sweet and funny, very gentle. He had a good heart. He loved animals. He was going to be a wildlife biologist, a conservationist. He cared."

She suddenly sobbed and stopped walking. He stopped beside her, reaching out to touch her arm. The gesture was more than she could take. Bursting into tears, she stepped toward him. Caught offguard, he didn't move as she buried her face in his chest. Tentatively, he put his arms around her. Crying harder, she pressed into him and he held her, not knowing what else to do.

He wasn't sure how long they stood there, but that was where Eames found them. She approached, her face an open question. He gave her a helpless look. Stopping beside them, Eames reached out and laid a hand on Kelly's back. The girl's sobs had quieted, but she made no move to step away from Goren. Eames leaned toward the girl, resting her head on Goren's arm. "Kelly?" she said gently.

Turning her head to look at Eames, Kelly sniffed. Goren shoved his hand into a pocket and produced a clean handkerchief, which Kelly took as she stepped back from his arms. "I'm sorry, detective. I...I just..."

She trailed off, and he leaned to one side to bring his face level with hers. "It's okay," he assured her. "Losing someone you care about...it's a difficult blow."

She nodded, pressing the cloth against her mouth to stifle another sob. Eames squeezed Kelly's arm. "Can we take you home?" she offered.

Kelly looked at her, and then at Goren. "Do you mind?"

Eames also looked at Goren before answering, "Of course not."

As they walked toward the SUV, Kelly said, "I live with my aunt and uncle, on Central Park West."

The silence on the drive away from the school was broken by an occasional sob from the back seat. When they pulled up in front of the address Kelly gave them, Goren got out of the car to open the door for her. She stopped in front of him and looked up into his face. "Thank you. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."

He shook his head. "You didn't."

She held out the handkerchief, but he gestured for her to keep it. "It's fine."

She gave him a sad smile, then stepped onto the sidewalk and walked to the building. The doorman pulled the door open for her, greeting her with familiarity. She looked back toward the street before entering the building.

Once she was through the front door, Goren got back into the vehicle. Eames pulled away from the curb and was silent for a few blocks. Finally, she said, "Watch it, Bobby."

He looked at her. "Watch what?"

"She's vulnerable, and you've shown her sympathy."

"She's a girl, Eames. Give me some credit."

"Just be careful. She _is _a girl, a beautiful girl with a broken heart. It would take nothing for her to misinterpret your sympathy for something more."

He stared at her. "Eames, she's a child..."

"No, Bobby. She's not a child. She's a young woman. She just turned eighteen and she's grieving."

He shook his head, dismissing her concern. "Don't worry, Eames. I know what I'm doing."

"I hope so," she commented.

Negotiating the mid-afternoon traffic, she looked at him when she stopped at a red light. "I don't mean to infer anything improper. I just want you to be careful. I know how young women work."

"You have nothing to worry about, Eames."

She hoped he was right.


	3. After School Activities

Goren and Eames entered the morgue and found Rodgers beside the body of the young football player. Eames shook her head slowly. "What a waste."

"My sentiments exactly," Rodgers concurred, watching Goren circle the body, dipping and poking as was his way.

It took a moment before he realized the women had stopped talking. He looked up from where he was bent over, examining the side of Matt's head. His finger made a circle in the air. "This bruise...?"

"It's an older bruise, maybe a week or so old. It didn't contribute to his death."

Goren made a mental note to ask Kelly and Matt's friends if any of them knew how he got the bruise. "So what did kill him?"

"I'm reserving my final decision until I see the tox reports."

His brow furrowed and he looked at Eames, who said, "Do you think drugs played a role in his death?"

"I don't know. I don't see any indication of chronic drug use, but sometimes once is too much." She picked up a clipboard. "What is interesting is his blood alcohol level." She looked at Goren. "You smelled his breath, Goren. Did you detect any alcohol?"

He shook his head. "No, just the Gatorade he drank. But it would depend on what he drank and when. Beer, whiskey...they're hard to mask. But vodka is easy to hide. Vodka mixed in with Gatorade...would be hard to detect. But..." His brow knit together and he rubbed the back of his neck. "That doesn't mesh with Matt's personality...as an athlete or as a person."

He added drugs and alcohol to the list of things to talk to Matt's friends about. Rodgers let him ramble, knowing it helped his thought processes. She looked at Eames, who was watching him roam around the body, working out his thoughts. Rodgers always liked to watch this team at work. Goren's enthusiasm was contagious, but Eames tempered it well, balancing him with skill. It was a fascinating show. Goren circled the slab again, thinking, before he looked at Rodgers expectantly.

She said, "The Gatorade was clean. There was no alcohol in his stomach, just Gatorade and two power bars. Nothing left from lunch."

Goren had leaned over to look at a mark on Matt's neck. "He wouldn't have had a heavy lunch, not with practice right after school," he said absently. "Uh...this mark...is it...?"

Rodgers smirked and nodded in agreement. "A hickey, yes."

Goren looked at his partner, who also smirked. He half-smiled and resumed his examination, with Rodgers watching as she continued with her report. "Whatever he drank, it was all in his system. He was not a chronic heavy drinker. I've seen signs of liver damage from alcohol, even in kids his age, but not in this kid. His liver was normal. This was a healthy kid. My entire examination was benign, except for that BAC. So I'm waiting for toxicology to give me an answer. I don't have one right now."

"Injuries?"

"Nothing lethal. The tackle was not what killed him. He has bruising and abrasions and such that I would expect to see on an active young athlete. Nothing that raises any red flags at all."

Goren nodded as he looked the body over one more time. "Thank you," he murmured absently before he headed for the door, lost in thought.

Eames also looked at the body of the young man one more time before she followed her partner from the medical examiner's domain.

* * *

At his desk, Goren wrote in his binder and began to gather the file together. Eames was about to speak but changed her mind when Deakins approached them. "How's the case going?"

Eames answered, "The kid's BAC was .12. Rodgers is waiting for the tox report. Right now, she's got nothing."

"Where are you heading now?"

Goren looked at the time. "To the school. I have more questions."

Deakins placed his hands on their desks and leaned on them. "This is an elite school. A lot of important people send their children there. Don't make any waves."

Goren gave him an innocent look. "We won't."

Somehow, as he watched them leave, Deakins doubted that. He returned to his office to brace himself for the phone calls that inevitably began in Goren's wake.

* * *

The school bustled with end-of-the-day activity. Eames was clipping her visitor's pass to her jacket as they left the office. "Now what?"

"Now we need to find Matt's friends. Several of them weren't football players." He opened his binder as they stood off to the side, out of traffic. "Todd Faraday, Scott Lindstrom and Harry Devarest. The three other names I have are kids on the team. We know where to find them."

"Where did you get those names?"

"I asked around."

Before she could answer, someone called to them. Kelly Larimer and one of her friends crossed the busy hall. Her long blond hair was gathered at the nape of her neck and the burgundy turtleneck she wore beneath her white uniform shirt was accented by beautiful opal pendant on a thin gold chain that rested just below her open collar. Both girls were carrying several books and had their coats draped over their arms. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

Before Eames could send the girls on their way, Goren spoke up. "I have some more questions about Matt, and we need to find a few of his friends." He opened his binder again and Kelly stepped up to his side, placing her hand on his arm. Her friend stood beside her, looking from the page to his face. Kelly read the three names and said, "They're all at practice. Todd and Harry run cross-country and Scotty plays soccer."

Brightly, her friend said, "We'll take you out there."

He closed his binder and looked at Eames, who frowned at him. She half-expected one of the girls to grab his hand and was relieved when neither of them did. They followed the two seniors out of the building.

When they arrived at the track field, Kelly pointed and leaned toward her friend, "Look, Bethany! Pete's out there."

Bethany flushed and gave her a shove and they both laughed. Goren and Eames exchanged an amused look. She raised her eyebrows, and he understood the warning. 'Don't worry,' his expression returned. She swallowed a laugh. She always worried about her partner; it came with the job.

They sat in the bleachers, joined shortly by the girls. Bethany sat beside Eames and Kelly took the place beside Goren. Eames wished she had a better view of Kelly. She could see what was going on, even if her partner chose to remain ignorant, and she was afraid the girl was going to get hurt. She trusted Goren to be a gentleman; it was Kelly who concerned her.

Kelly leaned into his arm and pointed out on the field. "The boy in the lead, that's Todd. He's our best distance runner. Harry is right behind him." She turned her head to look up at him, suddenly changing subjects. "Do you know why Matt died?"

He shook his head. "No. Not yet. But I have some more questions I need to ask you."

"We have time before they're done warming up. What do you need to know?"

"Did you spend a lot of time with Matt?"

She smoothed her hands over her gray skirt, pulling it back over her knees and folding her hands around them. "After practice every day, he'd take me home. Sometimes he'd stay for dinner and we'd do homework at the dining table. Saturdays after the game, he'd go out with his friends, and then Sundays, after church, he would spend with me."

"Any classes together?"

"History and English. He was helping me with my math. I'm not very good at it and he was." She smoothed her hands over her skirt. "He was very smart. He got his acceptance letter to Yale last weekend. They offered him a partial scholarship, and he was awarded two others. Matt would have been somebody."

A tear rolled off her cheek and onto her skirt. She wiped at her eyes impatiently and apologized, pulling her coat more tightly around her. He leaned forward to look at her. "It takes time to heal after a loss."

She pressed her lips tightly together. "The funeral...is tomorrow at nine...at St. Tristan's."

He nodded. "We heard."

Eames nudged him hard. "The boys are coming in from warm-ups. Let's go talk to them."

With a nod, Goren excused himself and followed his partner down to the track. Bethany slid across the bench to Kelly's side and hugged her. Then the girls sat quietly together, watching Goren and Eames talk to Matt's friends.

After speaking briefly with the detectives, the coach called Harry and Todd over to talk with them. Todd was short and lean; Harry was a little taller and more muscular. Both boys were had dark hair and eyes, and they were polite. Eames made the introductions and began, "How well did you guys know Matt Barrister?"

"We've been friends since kindergarten," Todd offered.

"Did Matt drink or do drugs?" Goren asked, getting right to the point.

Both boys were surprised by the question. "No," Harry answered. "I mean, never while he was training. Sure, we'd go to parties and stuff during the off season. But during the football, basketball and baseball seasons...never."

Todd nodded. "We all stayed clean during the season. If Coach ever found out anything different, we'd be done. Matt was offered an academic scholarship and a football scholarship to Yale and a basketball scholarship to Princeton. He'd never jeopardize his future for a quick high. Never."

Goren made a motion toward an area behind his temple. "Matt had a bruise on the side of his head. Do either of you know how he got it?"

The boys exchanged a look and finally, Harry said, "Uh, yeah...he made us promise not to say anything."

Eames said, "He's dead, boys. I don't think that promise is binding any more. Not when you're talking to us, anyway."

They looked at each other again and finally Todd nodded. "A week or so before he died, he was waiting for us outside the locker room. He had about forty-five minutes before he had to meet Kelly. Roger came out before we did and they got into an argument."

"Over Kelly?"

Harry seemed surprised. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"We heard that Roger didn't like the fact that Kelly was dating Matt," Eames replied.

"That's an understatement," Todd said. "Roger wanted Kelly in the worst way but she's out of his league. She's way too classy to go with a troll like him. So Roger kept trying to intimidate Matt, but Matt was too smart for that. No one ever intimidated Matt. He mostly ignored Roger, pretended he just didn't exist, and that made Roger nuts."

Harry took over the explanation. "So Roger decided to let Matt know he does exist. He clubbed him on the side of the head with something and then took off like the coward he is. Unless he has his buddies around to show off for, he's a damn coward. We wanted to take Matt to the hospital, but he refused. He said it looked worse than it was and made us promise not to say anything...and to leave Roger alone."

Eames frowned and looked at Goren before asking, "If he'd said something, he could have gotten Roger kicked off the team or suspended or something."

"Maybe," Harry said. "But Matt wasn't a crybaby. He dealt with his own problems and never brought in anybody else. Not even us. He saw Roger as his problem and he just dealt with him."

Eames shook her head. "For such a smart kid, that wasn't the brightest thing for him to do."

Todd shrugged. "That was the way Matt was. He never relied on anyone else. He always depended on himself."

Goren nodded. "Thanks, boys."

As they walked away from the track, Eames said, "If he'd said something to someone, he might not be dead."

"Self-reliance isn't a bad thing, Eames."

She got a strong feeling that he was speaking from experience and she decided to let the matter drop as the girls came down off the bleachers to join them. "The soccer field is this way," Bethany said as she led the way.

Kelly fell into step beside Goren, and Eames looked at him. She shook her head and he gave his shoulders a shrug.

The boys' soccer team was just taking the field for practice as the girls' team jogged toward the locker rooms. Several of the players called to Kelly and Bethany and waved. The girls waved back as they sat in the bleachers. Eames steered Goren down toward the field in an attempt to talk to Scott before the drills began. The coach hollered at the boys to stretch before they started their laps. Eames introduced herself and Goren as they approached the coach and let him know they wanted to talk to Scott Lindstrom.

The coach called the young man over. "These detectives want to talk to you, Scotty. When you're done, you can join in on the laps."

"Right, coach."

Scott was not too tall, muscular and stocky, with dark eyes and dark hair cut into a crew cut. "How can I help?" he asked.

Eames noticed that he looked past them toward the bleachers before turning his attention back to them. She asked, "How well did you know Matt?"

"We've been hanging out together since sixth grade."

"Do you know if Matt was involved with drugs or alcohol?"

"Matt? Seriously? Come on. He was as straight as they come."

Goren leaned in toward the teen. "You mean he never tried anything?"

Scott sighed. "No, I didn't say that. During the summer, that was when he let go. You know, partying and stuff. He drank some and smoked some pot. But once football practice started, that was it. He was serious about sports and school."

"What about Kelly?"

Scott seemed surprised by the question. "Kelly?"

"Was he serious about her?"

"He could have been. We didn't really talk about her a lot. We got together to play ball and goof around."

Goren rubbed the back of his neck and looked toward the bleachers. Then he leaned in toward Scott. "She's a beauty," he said.

Scott looked toward the girls. "Yeah, she's pretty, but she's not my type."

Goren studied the boy for a moment before he nodded. "Thanks, Scott. You can go back to practice."

He watched the boy join his teammates running laps. "Girls," he said quietly to Eames. "Girls are not his type. Let's go watch football practice."


	4. Hidden Rage

Eames was not surprised when Kelly and Bethany joined them as they left the soccer field and crossed the campus to the football field. As they approached the field, though, Kelly suddenly slowed down. The others turned toward her and she shook her head. "I...I can't do this," she stammered, on the verge of tears.

She turned and ran off. Bethany looked at the two detectives. "I think Matt's death is finally sinking in."

She hurried after her friend. Eames looked at Goren, noting the indecision on his face. She grabbed his arm and gave him a gentle shove toward the field. "You can't help her," she said. "Let's get on with our job."

He continued watching the two girls as Bethany caught up to Kelly and wrapped a comforting arm around her. Eames waited impatiently. When he finally turned toward her, she said, "I know you don't like to see another person suffer, but believe me when I say anything you think you can do to help will only make matters much worse in the long run. Come on."

He looked once more toward the girls, then he followed Eames to the football field.

* * *

The two detectives sat in the bleachers, watching practice. Goren studied the boys on the field, making note of their interactions with each other. He leaned toward Eames. "Watch Roger," he said. "This play...it's a defensive play. His job is to try to get past the defender...watch..." He pointed. "There. Did you see it?"

Eames frowned. "Did he just trip that kid up?"

"Not directly. Watch the next play...here, come over this way."

She got up and followed him to the next set of bleachers, changing the angle of their view. Eames leaned over and watched closely. She sat back after the play was over. "He knocked the wind out of him."

"I need to see Matt's body again."

"Do you think Roger could have caused his death?"

"I don't know, but at the very least, he may have contributed to it." He motioned toward the field where the players were trotting to the sidelines as the coaches spoke among themselves in the middle of the field. "Uh, number 83...I want to know what Roger said to him."

"Do you really think he's going to talk to us here?"

He looked thoughtful as he watched number 83 sit on the bench, well away from Roger and his group. The young man removed his helmet and rubbed his midsection. Goren took one of his cards from his pocket and wrote on the back of it, then he leaned toward Eames. "Distract Roger for a minute," he said. "I'll be right there."

She nodded and they left the bleachers for the field. Eames walked over to the group of boys as Goren approached the player Roger assaulted. Looking toward the group to make sure Eames had Roger's attention, he handed the boy his card. The young man looked up at him. Goren met his eyes, but didn't say a word before turning and walking away. The boy looked at the card, then turned it over. Goren had written: "Meet us near the Greek Gallery at the Met at 6:00."

As Goren approached the group of players that Eames was talking to, Roger began to advance on her. Goren grasped the young man's shoulder and spun Roger toward him. There was rage in the boy's eyes. "Problem?" Goren asked, his tone distinctly unfriendly.

Roger looked up at the big detective, slowly balling his hands into fists. Goren saw the intent on Roger's face and he leaned closer instead of backing off, like Roger expected him to do. When he spoke, his voice was low, intended for only Roger to hear. "Go ahead, kid. Assaulting a police officer will get you jail time."

"Hiding behind your badge?" Roger growled back.

"Not at all. You want to take a swing, go right ahead. I won't arrest you, but I can't speak for my partner."

"Why do you belittle your position by partnering with a woman?"

Eames saw the fire flash in her partner's eyes and she couldn't help wondering what Roger had said to put it there. The boy moved away from Goren a moment later, giving her a look laced with hatred and resentment. He nudged one of the other players as he passed him and muttered, "Come on, guys. There's nothing of interest around here."

The group of boys returned to the field as the coaches approached. "Is there a problem, detectives?" Coach Fredericks asked.

Goren deferred to Eames, who said, "No problem, coach. We wanted to talk to a couple of the boys who were friends with Matt."

Twenty minutes later, they left the football field, no further along than they were when they got there. His teammates had the same things to say that the other boys had. Matt was a good kid, serious about his studies and his sports during the year and a party boy during the summer months. He liked Kelly and Roger deeply resented her rejection of him. When Goren turned the questioning specifically toward Roger, however, the boys got nervous and stopped answering his questions. As they walked away from the field, Eames said,"That was productive."

Goren's only response was a grunt. She looked at him and asked, "What went on between you and Roger?"

"Nothing."

Before she could press the issue, a voice called out to them and they turned to see Kelly approaching them. Eames groaned. Kelly was the last person she wanted to see right then. As she drew closer, Kelly focused on Goren, which Eames did not miss. She stopped at his side and asked, "Did you talk to the boys you wanted to talk to?"

He nodded. "We just finished up." He started to turn away, but then, he turned back to her. "Did you have lunch with Matt the day he died?"

She shook her head. "No. I have an earlier lunch. Matt's schedule had him in the late lunch on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and the middle lunch, same as me, on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

He opened his binder and wrote in it. "He, uhm...he wouldn't eat a heavy lunch on his late lunch days..."

Kelly smiled. "No, he didn't. When he had lunch with me, he had a sandwich and maybe a bag of chips, but when he had the late lunch, he'd just have a couple of power bars and a protein shake he mixed up in the training room before he went to the lunch room. But I don't know what he had on Monday."

"Do you know who he had lunch with on his late lunch days?"

"I'm sorry, Detective. I don't."

He motioned with his hand, pointing his pen toward the field. "Uh, number 83...he plays the same position Matt did. Do you know his name?"

"Dave. Dave, uh...Dave Barnes."

He jotted the name in his binder and nodded as he closed it and tucked it under his arm. "Thank you, Kelly."

She touched his forearm, near his wrist, keeping his attention. "I'm sorry I couldn't go with you to the field. I just...I suddenly couldn't handle being out there."

Her hand dropped from his arm and she looked toward the field, turning back toward him right away, though she didn't look up at him. Goren watched her for a moment, then asked, "Has Roger been bothering you?"

They both saw a flash of fear in her eyes when she looked up, but it vanished quickly. "How...How did you know?"

Eames saw the tension crop up in him. His back stiffened and his jaw knotted as he flexed his left hand in and out of a fist. Kelly didn't seem to notice. Goren turned to look at his partner, and she saw the fire simmering in his eyes. There was a problem. When he looked back toward Kelly, the fire had cooled; it was not something he would let her see. "Stay away from him," he warned.

She frowned, trying to pretend Roger didn't bother her. "Why? He's just a jerk."

He reached out and gripped her elbow, leaning in suddenly. "Stay away from him," he repeated, his tone more intense. "Trust me."

She studied his face and did nothing to withdraw from him. Eames reached out and nudged his arm. "We have somewhere to be," she reminded him.

He stepped back from the girl, but did not look away. She had the sense to look concerned as Eames intruded once again on the interaction. "Let's go, Goren."

Finally, he turned away from Kelly and walked off. Eames looked at her. "He doesn't give warnings for no reason. Listen to him. At the very least, never put yourself in a position to be alone with Roger."

Kelly watched the two detectives walk away before she turned and hurried back toward the school before the team was dismissed from practice.

Eames looked up at Goren as they walked toward the parking lot. "What was that?"

"That kid is dangerous. So far, he has managed to hide himself from the people around him, but there's a lot of rage simmering just below the surface. The conflict between him and Matt...there's a lot more to it than just competition for a girl. Kelly is not the focal point of this, but she got drawn into it as a cover."

"A cover for what?"

"That's what we have to find out."

As they got to the SUV, Eames asked, "Are you going to tell me what he said that pissed you off so bad?"

He stopped and looked over the hood at her. "Who said he pissed me off?"

"Don't play games with me, Bobby. I saw the look in your eyes."

He advanced to the door and stopped short of gripping the handle. She had a clear view of him from where she stood near the front bumper and she watched his jaw knot, but she knew he'd say no more and that irritated her. Finally, he looked at her. "We have to go to the Met."

"Fine," she snapped, opening the car and getting in.

He slid into the passenger seat and said nothing.

* * *

Eames looked around at the collection of Greek art and artifacts that filled the hall that stretched out before her. Goren paced the hallway just outside the hall, watching the escalator for the boy who was supposed to meet them there. Neither of them had spoken since leaving the school.

Finally, Eames joined him and said, "Why here? You really think the kid is going to pay ten bucks to get in here just to talk with us?"

"There was a sign in the school office. Admission is free for the kids. His school ID will get him in without paying."

Since they were there on police business, their badges got them in without charge, but Goren had given a donation, anyway. That hadn't surprised Eames. She was drawn from her reflection when he suddenly moved away from her with a wave of his hand. She followed him and they met Dave Barnes at the top of the escalator.

Goren held out his hand. "Thanks for coming, Dave."

The boy looked nervous as he accepted the outstretched hand. "Did I do something wrong?"

Eames watched her partner soften as he answered, "No, not at all. We were watching practice, and we didn't want to talk to you on the field." He motioned for Dave to follow them and they walked away from the escalator. Goren leaned forward a little. "Let me see your abdomen, Dave."

The young man looked horrified at the thought. "What?"

"Roger Lassiter hit you. I want to see what damage he did."

Dave looked at the floor. "It's just a bruise. Bruises heal."

"Isn't that what Matt kept saying?"

The boy's face lost three shades of color. "Uh, ah...well, yeah. How did you know?"

"Let me see your belly, Dave."

Dave backed against a wall and looked around. At the dinner hour, the museum's patronage was low. He lifted his t-shirt and Goren studied the bruises on his abdomen. Straightening away from the boy as Dave pulled down his shirt, Goren asked, "Why don't you say something?"

"And get branded a crybaby?"

"This is serious, Dave."

"Look, if I do anything that gets Roger suspended or kicked off the team...I'll end up like Matt."

Goren looked at Eames, then back at Dave. "What happened to Matt...that wasn't an accident."

Dave looked around as he stepped away from the detectives. "I've already said too much."

"Dave..."

But it was too late. The boy was already walking toward the escalator. Goren trotted after him, grabbing his arm just before he got to the moving stairs. "The alcohol in Matt's system..."

Dave looked at him, and Goren could see the fear in his eyes. Quietly, Goren said, "Matt's schedule...he had late lunch...someone spiked his drink at lunch..."

Dave shook his arm, and Goren released it. The young man continued to look at him for a moment before he turned and ran down the escalator stairs. Eames stepped up beside Goren. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking Roger is a tyrant, and his is a reign of terror."

"Now you're thinking he had something directly to do with Matt's death?"

Goren looked at her, his dark eyes filled with concern. "I could be wrong," he murmured, almost hoping that saying would make it so.

"Do you think you are?"

His eye lingered on hers for another moment before he looked away. "Come on. I need to see Matt."

"But Rodgers..."

"She's waiting for us."

Eames shook her head as she followed him onto the escalator. "She's going to love you."

* * *

Sure enough, Rodgers was waiting with the body on the slab in one of the autopsy rooms. It was clear that she was not happy about being there. Eames gave her an apologetic look, which she acknowledged with a nod. Goren went directly to the body and examined the lower chest and upper abdominal areas of the dead boy. "This bruising..."

"He was a football player, Goren."

"How old are the bruises?"

"It varies. The freshest bruises are maybe a week old. There is a peri-mortem injury, but no bruising, which fits with the description we got of what happened to him."

He looked at Eames. "I saw the same pattern of bruising on Dave's body. We need to talk to the coach first thing Monday."

Eames nodded. Rodgers looked confused. "Is there a problem?"

"The alcohol in Matt's body...when would you say it was ingested?"

"Alcohol is absorbed rapidly into the system. No more than a couple of hours before he died."

Goren looked at the wall, thinking, then he looked at Eames. "Matt had the latest lunch period, at one o'clock. Practice started at three-thirty. We need to ask his teachers if they noticed anything during his afternoon classes the day he died."

"Don't tell me we're spending the day at school Monday."

"There are a couple of things I need to see."

Eames gave Rodgers another look and a moment of sympathetic understanding passed between the two women before she followed her partner from the morgue.


	5. Home Game

Goren stood outside St. Tristan's Church, looking up at the soaring Gothic spires of the building. He wasn't much for church services. Since he'd suffered his crisis of faith as a child struggling with his mother's illness, he'd stepped away from the Church, stepped away from God. He still remembered his Bible and the lessons of his childhood. He just no longer had a child's faith that everything would work out. His job certainly didn't help restore faith, either, and the hearse parked at the curb just reaffirmed his convictions. A life taken too soon...where was the mercy, or the justice, in that? He dropped his chin to his chest and started up the steps leading to the church's main doors.

"Detective!"

He turned as Kelly trotted up the street to join him on the steps. She wore a long, flowing skirt, black boots and a dark coat that hung about two inches above the hem of her skirt. "You came to say good-bye to Matt," she said, looking around. "Where is your partner?"

"She was busy this morning. I'm meeting her after lunch."

Standing one step above him, which brought her face close to his, she reached out and touched his arm. "You can sit with me."

Unsettled, he looked at her hand. "Thanks, but I think I'll just take a place in the back, somewhere out of the way, where I can just watch."

"Without being involved?"

"It's not my place to get involved. I am only here to convey our sympathy."

"Maybe I'll see you afterwards?"

"Maybe."

She studied his face for a moment. Leaning forward, she suddenly kissed him and then ran up the steps into the church. Shaken, he stood paralyzed, eyes closed, and the only thought that raced through his mind was _Oh, hell...Eames is going to kill me._

He had second thoughts about proceeding into the church, but he felt compelled to attend at least part of the funeral. He continued up the steps. Entering the church, he was relieved to find an open pew at the back where he could observe without being observed. Matt's parents were already seated in the first pew, closest to the casket. Between them was their little girl, who looked to be about seven or eight. When the funeral began, she climbed into her father's arms and settled against his shoulder. He could read the confusion on her face, and he imagined she was wondering where her brother had gone and when he would be back, too young to understand the concept of forever.

Beside Matt's parents were other family members: grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. Beyond the family, many of the mourners present were teenagers. He recognized Matt's teammates and coaches, the school principal sitting among other school officials. He saw Kelly, sitting with Bethany and several other friends, all quiet and subdued. It took some searching before he was able to find Scott Lindstrom. The boy was sitting at the far end of a half-filled pew, dressed in a dark suit and looking miserable. Several friends, both male and female, stopped to talk to him, but they all moved on, leaving him alone with his sorrow. He saw more devastation in Scott than he saw in Kelly. He made a mental note to talk to Scott again, somewhere more private than the middle of a soccer field during practice.

Steadily, he stared at the crucifix that towered above the congregation, then he looked at the casket that sat in front of the altar. _Why?_ he wondered. _What possible purpose could this serve?_

Unbidden, a thought came into his mind. _Do not presume to know the mind of God._

He shook his head. He would never be that brazen. But he would question. He always questioned things he did not understand. Silently, he slipped from the pew and left the church. He'd paid his respects, as he'd intended. He had no reason to stay any longer.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he bowed his head against the cold fall wind and walked away down the street.

* * *

Eames was on the phone when he arrived at the squad room. He sat heavily at his desk, rubbing both temples to stave off the headache that was threatening. She looked up at him, concerned. Ending the call, she asked, "You look cold. Where have you been?"

"Walking. Thinking."

"About what?"

He sighed and ran his hand wearily over his hair. "About life...and justice...the case..." He shrugged. "It doesn't seem quite fair that a kid like Matt should be taken away while other people live on with impunity."

"No one ever said life was fair. What brought this on?"

"I, uh, I went to the funeral."

She arched her eyebrows. "Why?"

"I was curious. I wanted to pay my respects and to see who showed up."

"You should have called me. I would have gone with you."

He shook his head. "You had plans. This was something I needed to do."

"Did it get you anywhere?"

"I suppose that's a matter of opinion. I wanted to see who showed up, and who didn't."

"Any surprises?"

"Senator Littleton was there."

She looked impressed. "Really? Well, now we know how we caught the case." She paused. "Did you talk to the parents?"

He shook his head. "I wasn't going to intrude on their grief. If they were too distraught to see us a couple of days ago, they certainly wouldn't be willing to talk today. But I really feel for Matt's little sister. She's too young to know what's going on. It's confusing for her; she doesn't understand."

"How old is she?"

"Little. Seven or eight."

She knew he would understand, since he was that age when his mother got sick. A young child faced with a devastating loss. Yes, he would understand. "It was a difficult funeral," she observed.

"Yes. It's always difficult when a life ends too soon, when loved ones are left behind to grieve."

She studied him as grabbed a file and flipped it open, reading and jotting down thoughts as they came to him. She recognized it for the diversionary tactic it was. "Bobby..." she began.

He stopped writing; he was listening. She wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but she was not entirely sure she really wanted to know. So she asked, "Did you talk to anyone at the funeral?"

He shook his head. "Just Kelly," he admitted, trying to sound nonchalant.

Eames wasn't sure how to take that. "What did she have to say?"

With a shrug, he answered, "Not much."

She waited for him to say more, but he didn't. So she tapped her pen on her desk until he looked up at her. "What?"

She closed the file in front of her. "'Not much?' That means she said something."

"Not really, Eames. She wondered why I was there alone. I didn't really talk to her. She sat with her friends and I stayed in the back."

She sensed he was being evasive. She didn't like it, but she didn't really have anything concrete to call him on. "Was Roger at the funeral?"

Goren shook his head. "No, but I didn't expect him to show up."

She agreed with him on that. "Isn't there a game tonight?"

He nodded. "At six."

"Are we going?"

He didn't answer immediately. Finally, he said, "I want to watch the team in action. I need to see Roger against actual competitors."

She leaned back in her seat. "I haven't been to a high school football game in a very long time."

For the first time since he arrived, he smiled. "I don't think they've changed much."

She snorted. "My high school football team was never involved in a murder investigation."

"Mine, neither."

"Are we still spending Monday at the school?"

"Unless you have a better idea."

She sighed. "Unfortunately, I don't."

* * *

They left the squad room at four-thirty, stopping for a quick bite to eat on their way uptown. The game was a home game, which made Goren happy. He wanted to watch Roger on his home turf.

The football field was a flurry of activity when they arrived. Out on the field, the first string ran through their warm up while on the sidelines other players tossed the ball around. Students milled about in small groups, laughing and munching on hot dogs. Parents and teachers sat in the bleachers with steaming cups of coffee, watching the children and reminiscing.

The wind from earlier in the day had died down, but it was still a cool night. Eames pulled her jacket more snugly around her. She remembered shivering at November football games. She also remembered the things she did--snuggling during the games, more intimate cozying afterwards--to keep warm. She smiled to herself and wondered if Goren had memories like that to look back on.

Goren watched the team out on the field, paying special attention to Roger. Even during warm-ups, Roger was aggressive, and he wondered why the coaches let him get away with it. When he played football, one of his teammates was aggressive like that, and he was dismissed from the team after two games. Of course, he was expelled from school that same year and by the time he was twenty, he was in jail. He wondered if Roger was going to make it to twenty before he saw life behind bars. Somehow, he doubted it. If his gut was right this time, Roger was already well on his way to prison.

While Goren watched the team out on the field, Eames scanned the gathering crowd. She wondered about the looks that were occasionally cast in their direction, but dismissed them as curiosity, since they did not attend games regularly.

Kelly arrived with four of her friends. To Eames' relief, she seemed subdued. After all, she had buried her boyfriend that morning. Kelly wore a pair of dark jeans, a pink blouse and a jacket that gathered at her waist. Her long blond hair, twisted and pinned atop her head, belied the coolness of the night.

When Kelly searched the bleachers, her expression changed when she spotted the two detectives. She whispered to her friend Bethany, who laughed and nodded, and then looked up.

Eames hoped Bethany or another friend would accompany Kelly when she came up to join them. But Kelly moved away from the group and started up the steps on the aisle closest to Goren. Eames nudged him, drawing his attention from the field. He turned to her, a fleeting look of annoyance on his face. She nodded her head toward the aisle. "Look who's coming."

Goren turned to see Kelly approach. He closed his eyes and braced himself for another uncomfortable encounter. Glancing at his partner, he saw a mixture of amusement and irritation on her face. He should have just bit the bullet and told Eames, but he didn't have time for speculation as Kelly dropped on the bench. "Hi," she said brightly, addressing them both.

Eames nodded at her. "Hello, Kelly."

Goren looked at her. "Hello."

"Is this part of your investigation?"

"Yes," Eames answered. "Neither of us has any other reason to attend high school football games." Her oldest nephew was not a football player and the next oldest wasn't yet in high school. She glanced at Goren and wondered why he was so interested in his hands. She looked back at Kelly. "Why don't you go down and watch the game with your friends, Kelly? We're working right now."

Kelly looked from Eames to Goren and back, obviously disappointed. "Would I be interfering if I sat here?"

Goren answered, "You should be with your friends."

Surprised by his tone, Eames frowned, more certain he was keeping something from her.

With a resigned sigh, Kelly nodded and laid a hand on his arm. "Ok, then. I'll see you later."

She trotted down to the field where she joined Bethany and their group of friends, which had expanded to include several more girls and a few boys.

Eames looked at Goren as he watched the group of teenagers and she tapped the side of his leg. "What's up?"

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that."

With a sigh, he murmured, "Not now, Eames."

She gave him an odd look, but he averted his attention back to the field. She wondered what was going on with him now. He had not been as uptight the day before. He was unsettled, and the knot in her stomach said Kelly had something to do with it. _What did you do?_ she wondered.

Eames kept a discreet eye on Kelly and her friends as they watched the game. She didn't miss the looks Kelly sent in their direction any more than she missed the looks from the teens around her.

Roger wasn't put in the game right away, and that made Goren restless. He watched the other players, but saw nothing that raised any red flags with him. Midway through the second quarter, the coach finally sent Roger into the game. Knowing that Goren would be focused on Roger, Eames watched the players around him.

Just before halftime, Roger made his move, taking out a defensive linebacker from the other team. Goren leaned toward Eames, pointing toward the field. "Did you see that?"

She nodded. "Talk about teamwork."

He leaned closer, dropping his voice even lower. "If Roger did kill Matt, he may not have done it alone. Maybe he had help."

"I'm liking this whole scenario less and less."

He nodded as he straightened away from her. The deeper they dug, the worse it got.

When the game went into halftime, the drill team and the band took the field, and Goren went for a walk away from the field. Eames let him go until she saw Kelly follow him. With a sigh of resignation, she went after them.

"Detective Goren!"

Goren turned as Kelly approached. "Kelly," he began. "Look, you shouldn't be chasing me around. You should be with your friends."

She grasped his arm and said, "I wanted to tell you before--Matt's parents said thank you for your consideration, for attending the funeral." Her hand rubbed his arm and he stepped away. Undeterred, she moved forward, but she didn't touch him again. "They said if you come by Monday night, they will talk to you and your partner."

He nodded, glancing back toward the field. He saw Eames approaching and swore to himself. "Thank you, Kelly. We appreciate your help, but really, you should go back to your friends. Eames and I are working."

"All right. I'll see you Monday?"

He nodded slowly. She leaned up and quickly kissed his cheek before he could pull away. She ran off back toward the field, waving to Eames as she passed her. Goren saw the dark look on his partner's face and he turned to continue his walk. She fell in step beside him after a few moments. "What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing."

She waved her hand toward the field. "What the hell was that, Bobby?"

"It's not what you think."

"I think she kissed you."

He sighed. "I've got it under control."

"Just _what_ do you have under control?"

He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. _Not a damn thing_, he admitted to himself. To Eames, he said, "I have done nothing to encourage her."

"What have you done to discourage her?"

"I didn't know there was an issue until today."

Eames didn't reply right away. She wasn't sure what the right thing to say was. "Maybe there's nothing _you_ can say."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind." She gave his arm a nudge. "Come on. Halftime will be over soon."

"Maybe I should just go home."

"You cannot let her interfere with our investigation."

"You are perfectly capable..."

She shook her head. "It's _our_ investigation and it centers on this school. This has to be dealt with, now. I should have talked to her the other day, but I left it for you to deal with and you chose to ignore it. See where that got you?"

He started to snap at her, but he stopped himself. She was right. He shouldn't have ignored it. By now, he should know that ignoring things didn't solve them or make them go away. He didn't say anything more.

They returned to their seats in the bleachers, where they watched the rest of the game.


	6. Discussions

Goren and Eames remained in the bleachers after the game, watching the teams head for the locker rooms. The home team had lost by a field goal. Goren pointed toward the departing home team. "Those three kids with Roger...they were with him the day Matt was killed, too. And they were palling around at practice."

She nodded as he wrote down the boys' uniform numbers. "Number 47 contributed to the 'accident' in the second quarter," she mused aloud.

He nodded absently as he read through the notes in his binder, jotting down other random thoughts as they popped into his mind. "I...uh, I want to talk to Scott again."

She nodded, rubbing her hands together for warmth. "Did you notice something else about those four boys?"

He stopped writing and muttered, "You mean the missing black armbands?"

She pouted. "Do you miss anything, Goren?"

Tipping his head to the side, he smiled at her. "I try not to."

Yet, he missed a teenager's crush on him, she mused, and that made her wonder as she watched him return to his writing. The four boys refusing to wear armbands in memory of their departed teammate was relevant to the case. Kelly's crush, however, was not. She did not agree with that, but she wasn't going to convince him, so she didn't bother trying.

He slapped his binder closed suddenly and got to his feet, motioning at the field. "I need to talk to Scott."

Looking toward the field, she saw the boy walking along the fifty yard line. When she moved to get up, though, he waved his hand at her. "It would be better if I did this alone."

The look in his eyes asked her to understand, and her mouth curved into a small smile. She gave him a brief nod. "Go on. I'll meet you at the car."

He slipped past her, touching her arm, and trotted down to the field. She felt a surge of affection, watching him go. As she pulled her jacket around her and stood up, Kelly approached her. "Where is your partner?" she asked, looking around for him.

Eames studied the girl before she nodded at the bench. "Sit down, Kelly. I'd like to talk to you for a minute."

Kelly sat down and waited, expectant. Eames got the impression Kelly didn't think there was anything wrong. She sat slowly. _Try to make a connection._ "Do you miss your parents?"

"Of course I do."

"They sent you all the way to New York for your senior year of high school?"

Kelly looked at her hands. "Yes."

"And?"

The girl looked up. "And what?"

"What else? I know how parents are, and they don't send their children four thousand miles from home on a whim."

"You don't know my mother."

Eames got the feeling there was a lot more to this than Kelly was saying, but she wasn't going to get it out of the girl. "You like my partner," she observed, noting that Kelly had spotted him out on the field, walking with Scott.

Kelly nodded. "He's nice."

"Yes, he is. He's very nice. But there's a lot more to him than that, Kelly. He's not a boy. He's a man, a police officer, with a lot going on in his life that does not need to be complicated. Really, you should be looking for a boy your own age. You are not going to get anywhere chasing after Detective Goren." She met the girl's eyes. "He's very smart, and he dates women much closer to his own age, women who can relate to him. Believe me, you will only get hurt if you keep after him."

Kelly's face turned dark and she frowned, but the stormy look lifted quickly. "You think I'm interested in him."

Eames smiled. "I was a teenager once, too. I've had crushes. I can see that you are."

"And you think it's a passing fancy."

"That's all it can be, Kelly. Let it go. Don't put any more on him than he already has to deal with."

Kelly studied the other woman, but Eames could not read her expression. Sometimes, she wished she had Goren's insight, his profiler's eye. Kelly got to her feet. "Thank you for your advice, Detective Eames. But you've got me all wrong. I'm not after him." She waved. "Good night!"

Kelly ran down to join Bethany, but she looked out across the field, where Goren was deep in conversation with Scott. _Please don't_, Eames thought, relieved when Bethany tugged on Kelly's arm and they ran off toward the parking lot. _Not after him, my ass._ Sitting where she was, she watched her partner interact with Scott near the sidelines, close to the place where Matt had died. The boy was crying and he stepped into a comforting hug from the big detective. _Great_, she thought. _Just great. I can't take that man anywhere.

* * *

_Goren slipped through the crowd and trotted out onto the field. "Scott?"

At first, the young man didn't acknowledge him, but when Goren fell in step beside him, he looked at him. "Hello, detective," he said.

Scott slowed his pace, and Goren matched it. He leaned over to look at Scott's face. "I, uh, I was at the funeral this morning," he said, his voice soft and sympathetic.

He watched the young man's face tighten. "I-I didn't notice much of anything this morning," he said miserably.

The detective nodded. "You...loved Matt."

Scott tensed and began to stammer. "I...he...M-Matt was dating Kelly..."

"But he didn't love Kelly."

Biting his lip, Scott shook his head. "No. He...had fun with her...b-but...he was only dating her for two months. He-he never slept with her."

"Because he was in love with you."

Tears began to roll from Scott's eyes, down his cheeks. "W-We were...we...How did you know?"

"Just a feeling."

"No one else knew. We were careful about that. Matt...Matt was popular. Most people liked him, and for good reason. He liked Kelly, but she was...well, she was just...fun." He played with the zipper on his jacket. "She was..."

When he trailed off, uncertain, Goren said, "His cover?"

"In a way," Scott answered. "Yeah."

"Do you think she knew?"

Scott shook his head. "No. She had no idea."

They continued in silence for a few paces, then, Goren asked, "Do you know anything about Roger Lassiter?"

Scott shoved his hands in his pockets. "Roger hated Matt. Matt was everything Roger would like to be but can't. Matt had a kind heart; he was a great guy. He'd go the extra mile for anyone and do it with a smile. Nothing was too much for him. Kelly...well, Roger wanted her because she's such a looker. Matt got her because he was such a sweet guy. She could be...demanding, but Matt did everything for her. He was a good boyfriend to her."

"Is there anything you can tell me about the day Matt died?"

Scott pulled his hands out and rubbed his palms together, then he ran his hand over his dark crew cut. "It was just a regular day."

"Did Roger or anyone else ever threaten Matt?"

Scott made a scoffing sound. "Roger was always threatening Matt."

"We were told he injured Matt a couple of weeks ago."

Nodding, Scott answered, "Yeah. Roger clubbed him after practice."

Goren looked at him. "Why did he choose to deal with Roger on his own?"

The boy shrugged. "What other choice did he really have? Roger's dad has deep pockets and a lot of power and influence. Nobody'll touch him."

Money, influence and power never intimidated Goren, especially not when there was a matter of justice in the balance. But it did explain why Roger got away with what he did and remained on the team. "What do you think about what happened to Matt? Do you think it had anything to do with his relationship with you?"

"No. Nobody knew. A lot of those guys on the team are homophobes and Matt would never have been able to stay on the team. They'd have been like my dad was when he found out."

"Your dad didn't take it well."

"Not at all. He caught me with a guy before I was with Matt. He beat the shit out of me and threw me out. I was fifteen, and I've lived with my grandparents ever since. My dad is a lot like Roger, unfortunately, and I'm not man enough to be his son. When I chose soccer over football, I was a huge disappointment. When I chose boys over girls, he disowned me."

"But here at school...?"

"Matt and I never hung out here. I have my friends and he has his. No one here knows about us."

"And his parents?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea if he told them. That was between him and them. But I've known his folks since my family moved into the parish and I started going to school with Matt. I think they'd be cool with anything Matt did. They loved him..."

When he trailed off, Goren finished his thought. "More than your dad loved you?"

Scott bit his lip and nodded, hanging his head. "Yeah," he answered miserably.

"And your mom?"

"She has to go along with dad. But I see her every weekend. We have lunch on Sundays, when Matt's with Kelly." Tears escaped Scott's eyes again. "When he was with Kelly."

When Scott started sobbing again, they stopped walking and Goren touched his arm sympathetically. Scott stepped forward into him, and he did his best to comfort the grieving boy.

* * *

Eames was waiting for him by the car in the half-empty parking lot. "How'd it go?" Eames asked.

After sliding into the passenger seat, he scrubbed his hands over his face and answered, "Life is rough for that kid, and losing Matt has hit him hard."

"So he is gay?"

Goren nodded and opened his binder. Turning on the maplight, he began to write.

Eames left him alone to organize his thoughts and she got lost in hers.


	7. Watch Your Back

Monday morning, Goren rolled out of bed early, even for him. This case was resurrecting memories he did not particularly want to relive. High school had been many things for him, including, most importantly, an escape from a continuously deteriorating home life. Given his intelligence, people would think he'd been a great student, focused and well-mannered. That was only partly true. His mother had definitely taught him manners, but school had not presented much of a challenge for him. Some classes, like biology, had been a source of endless amusement for him. Mr. Dixon, he was certain, never looked forward to lab classes he was in. Math bored him, but history fascinated him and so did English, though for very different reasons.

Being a high school teacher had its hazards, and dealing with teenagers and their hormones was one of those hazards. It wasn't English that fascinated him as much as the soft curves and bright smile of the woman at the front of the classroom did. The memories were bittersweet, as most crushes were, and the thought that he was the object of such intense emotion was unsettling for him. His teacher had used his affection to focus him and reel him in when his life was otherwise spiraling out of control. She had used his love for books to connect to him and his love for her to guide him. She'd had a profound influence on him.

The thought that Kelly felt the same way toward him more than unnerved him, and he had no idea how to handle it. When Kelly had kissed him before the funeral, and again at the game, his inclination was to return to the squad room and stay there for the duration, but his partner was not going to let him bury his head in the sand. _Dammit_.

He showered and dressed in a dark brown suit with a white shirt and blue, brown and gray striped tie. He decided to take the train in to work. His mind was spinning too much for him to concentrate on driving, and he needed to think, whether he wanted to or not.

* * *

Eames arrived at the squad room at her usual time, and she was not surprised to find Goren there, buried in his notes. "Long night?" she asked.

He looked up, distracted. "Uh, yes."

"Are you ready to go to school?"

"No, not really."

She smiled, amused. "This was your idea, partner."

"I-I know. I'm just wondering if it's a particularly good one."

She thought for a moment. "It is a good idea. You can't let Kelly interfere with our job, Bobby."

Wearily, he scrubbed his face with both hands. "I know. I'm just...very uncomfortable."

She smiled sympathetically. "I know you are. But this isn't entirely your fault."

He flipped his binder closed and looked at her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She leaned forward over her desk. "You are so good at manipulating people when you want to in order to get what we need to solve a case. Now, you're on the other end of the stick and that's uncomfortable. Don't worry, Bobby. She'll get over it."

He rose without commenting and started toward the elevators. She followed him.

Once they were on their way to the school, Goren said, "I...I have to tell you something."

When he didn't speak right away, she encouraged, "Go on."

"At the funeral the other day...when I talked to Kelly..."

He was struggling, and she knew she wasn't going to like what he had to say. "Yes?"

"She...she kissed me."

So that was what he had been trying not to tell her. She let out a long, slow breath, and she knew he was waiting for her reaction. He'd been afraid to tell her for some reason, but he did tell her, and she appreciated that. She was able to let go of her anger and not take it out on him. "I think we need to talk to her guardians. There is something going on with that girl that I don't like."

He looked at her, baffled. He had expected anger from her; he expected her to blame him in some way. The fact that she didn't surprised and confused him, and he stared at her.

She glanced at him when he didn't say anything. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "I...didn't expect that...that reaction from you."

"What did you expect?"

He shrugged. "I guess...I expected you to blame me in some way."

"I don't blame you, Bobby. I know you didn't ask for this."

"I...I don't know what to do with it, Eames."

She was silent as the blocks slipped away. "We'll figure it out."

He exhaled softly, relieved. He felt a little better but he was still worried about it. He had a feeling Kelly was not going to be easily deterred.

* * *

The morning passed quickly for the detectives. They talked with Matt's teachers and some of his friends, and they did not run into Kelly. They left the school for lunch, but on their way back, Eames got a phone call. Her sister and nephew were in a car accident, and Goren insisted she drop him off so she could be with them. He knew how much she loved the baby, and he assured her he supported her decision to be with her family.

His first stop after she left was Coach Fredericks' office. The coach offered a welcoming smile and extended his hand. "I was wondering when you were going to get around to seeing me, detective."

Goren shook his hand. "This morning was for academics," he replied with a grin.

"Understandable. Sit down." His coach's eye looked the big detective up and down as he sat. "Did you play?

"Yes, sir."

"Position?"

"Tight end."

Fredericks nodded. "Good receiver?"

"Yes."

The coach's smile widened. "So what can I do for you? I already talked to your partner about Matt. He was a good kid, a talented player. We'll miss him."

Goren scratched behind his ear. "I want to talk about Roger and his friends."

Fredericks became uncomfortable. "Roger is very aggressive, but he's a good player."

"We were at the game on Saturday. What happened during the second quarter?"

"An accident. It was an accident."

"You don't believe that, do you?"

"It's football, detective. Accidents happen."

"Accidents? That was no accident. Roger and his buddy, number 47, double-teamed that other player and you know it."

Fredericks wouldn't look at him. "No..." he began.

Goren leaned forward. "Yes, sir. They did. When I was a junior, one of my teammates was aggressive like that. He was thrown off the team."

"Where did you go to school?"

"Brooklyn. Canarsie High."

"A public high school. There are certain...pressures...that come with a private school that don't exist in public schools."

"Financial pressures?"

Coach Fredericks rose from behind his desk and wandered around the small office, unable to ignore the scrutiny of the detective sitting in front of his desk. He picked up a football and spun it in his hands as he looked out the window toward the football field. "Some. Roger's father is rich and influential. This is a different world than the one you came from."

He could not have been more right. "A world where money and power can override the well being of other kids? Where prestige can hide a murder?"

Fredericks looked surprised. "Murder? Wait just a moment...Matt's death was an accident."

Slowly, Goren shook his head. "No, coach. No, it wasn't."

The coach stared at him. "You think Roger had something to do with it?"

"That's what we're trying to determine. I'd like to know what you think about Roger, his father aside."

"Roger has had the world handed to him on a silver platter, and he is used to always getting what he wants. He's a natural leader but not a natural... inspiration. He leads by intimidation, not through any natural ability. He's...a bully, and he doesn't take it too well when he doesn't get his own way. He hated Matt, but I can't believe he would kill him."

"Why not?"

"I don't see that it would be worth his effort, that's all. Matt was no threat to him."

"You didn't see any competition in the boys?"

"Well, of course they competed. What teen boys don't? But...murder? That just seems...it seems extreme to me, detective."

Goren nodded slowly in agreement. "Murder _is _extreme, coach." He paused. "Does Roger ever act alone?"

Fredericks shook his head. "Not that I have ever seen."

"So what happened during the second quarter of Saturday's game?"

"Football is a rough game," he answered.

Goren rose from his seat and approached the man near the window, invading his personal space and making him more nervous. "Come on, coach! You saw what happened out there!"

The coach's shoulders slumped a little, and his discomfort increased. "And so did you, Detective Goren. Your eyes weren't playing tricks on you. Roger and Freddy broke that kid's leg."

"So...what are you going to do about it?"

Fredericks sighed deeply, stepping away from the larger man. "This is an exclusive school. We don't get public funds. I told you that Roger's father is influential and wealthy. I am not at liberty to kick the boy off the team. My hands are tied."

"How many guys have to get hurt--or killed--before your hands are untied, coach?"

"That's not fair, detective! I care about these boys and I do the best I can for them. But I have to..."

Goren nodded, impatient and annoyed. "Yeah, yeah, I heard you. You have to work within the system. I have a system I have to work within, too. Your hands may be tied, coach. Mine are not."

Fredericks drew in a long, slow breath and let it out just as slowly. "Steven Lassiter is not a man to be trifled with. Watch your back, Detective Goren."

"I'm not worried about my back. My partner is pretty good at watching it. I'll be all right."

He studied Goren a little more closely. "Canarsie High...late seventies or early eighties?"

"I graduated in '79."

Fredericks nodded. "Good team. Very good team."

Goren's mouth quirked into a half-smile. "We were undefeated my senior year."

Fredericks tossed the football to Goren, who caught it. "Be careful," the coach warned. "Roger learned his aggression somewhere."

Goren tossed the ball back to the coach. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Fredericks watched the tall detective leave the office, and he hoped he was right.


	8. Revelations

As he walked down the hall away from Coach Fredericks' office, Goren pulled out his phone and called his partner. She did not answer. He was concerned, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, turning when he heard his name. Kelly hurried toward him and he groaned. He backed up a few steps, unintentionally backing into the wall. "Kelly..."

"I'm glad to see you," she said happily, ignoring his discomfort, if she even noticed it.

"I'm busy," he answered vaguely, looking around the mostly empty hall. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"I have study hall. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Yes. You can go to your classroom and let me do my job."

She looked around warily. "Where is Detective Eames?"

"Kelly, go back to your class."

Kelly hesitated for a moment, then she said, "I am sorry about your mother."

That caught Goren off guard. "Wh-what? What did you just say?"

"I said I'm sorry. About your mom."

"What do you know about my mother?"

She tossed her head and shrugged. "She's sick, permanently institutionalized at a place outside the city."

He stared at her. This was impossible. He started to sweat but felt chilled at the same time.

"How did you find out about her?" He made an effort to speak normally and was reassured that his voice didn't shake.

"It's not a big deal," she said dismissively. "I had a talk with Detective Eames the other day. She was right. Your life is complicated. I think I could help you, if you'd let me."

That's when the air got knocked out of his lungs. The pain hit him hard, like a sucker punch. Eames...told Kelly...how could she do that? How dare she violate his privacy that way! He turned away from Kelly and walked off down the hall, not responding when the girl called after him.

Kelly watched him hit the doors and storm out of the school building. Smiling to herself, she turned and walked toward her study hall.

* * *

Goren sat at the bar, well into his bottle. How could Eames have done that? It was one thing to talk to Kelly about him, but it was entirely another to tell the girl about his mother. He was glad she'd had to take off early because it gave him a chance to calm down, to try to figure out how to deal with it. She'd called him twice since he'd left the school, and he'd ignored the calls.

When his phone rang again, he was tempted to continue ignoring it, but when he looked at the caller ID, he did not recognize the number. He flipped the phone open. "Goren."

"Hello, detective."

It took a moment for the voice to register with him. "Kelly?"

"Yes. I...I need a favor..."

"How did you get this number?"

"It's on your card."

"Where did you get my card?"

"I...came across one."

"Kelly, look..."

"Please!" she interrupted. "Detective, I...I got stranded, up in the Bronx, in a not so nice neighborhood. Could you come to get me?"

"What are you doing in the Bronx? You should be home."

"Please. I really need you to come and get me."

"Can't you call a cab?"

"How do I pay for it? I don't have any money, and my aunt and uncle aren't home. Please. I don't know who else to call."

"Who would you call if you didn't have my number?"

"I don't know," she answered with a sob.

Great, now she was going to cry. Wasn't his life complicated enough? He was quiet for a moment. "Where are you?"

He wrote down the address she gave him, informing him it was a small 24 hour bodega. She was right. It wasn't a great neighborhood she found herself in. "Stay right there," he cautioned. "Don't go anywhere."

"Thank you."

He closed his phone and stared at the letters and numbers he had written down. She was looking toward him to be her white knight. Hell. He was no one's hero. He barely had a handle on his own life most of the time. After a moment, he flipped open his phone and called his partner.

She answered on the third ring, and he could hear voices in the background. "Are you still at your sister's?"

"Yes, but I was just getting ready to leave." She noticed the odd tone in his voice. "What's wrong?"

He looked down at the napkin on which he'd written the address of the bodega. "Uh, I, uhm, I just got a call...from Kelly."

"Where did she get your number?"

"She said she came across one of my cards. Did you give it to her?"

"Of course not. Why would you think I did?"

He'd had too much to drink to censure himself. "Oh, I don't know. You told her about my mother. Why wouldn't you give her my card?"

"What? Bobby, what are you talking about?"

He finished off his drink and motioned at the bartender for a refill. "Forget it, Eames. Kelly is stranded in the Bronx and she needs a ride. That's why she called me."

"She can't call a cab?"

"She claims she has no money and her aunt and uncle aren't home."

"What is she doing in the Bronx?"

"I don't know, Eames," he snapped. "She didn't tell me. Just...will you go get her and take her home?"

Eames thought about it for a moment. "I'll pick you up on the way."

"What for?"

"So we can talk."

"Eames, I don't think..."

"That's right. You don't. I'll be there in forty-five minutes."

"Eames..." The line was dead. "Fuck."

* * *

He was waiting outside his apartment building when she pulled up almost an hour later. She knew immediately that he had been drinking, and she wondered why. He slid into the car wordlessly and she pulled away from the curb.

They drove in silence for a little while before Eames said, "What is your problem, Goren?"

He clenched and unclenched his left fist. "You talked to Kelly, about me."

"Yes. I did. Why?"

He trembled and struggled to swallow his rage. "How...how could you...tell her about my mother?" he demanded.

Eames was genuinely confused. "What are you talking about? How much have you had to drink?"

"Kelly...She told me you talked to her, told me..." He rubbed his forehead. "She said she's sorry about my mother's illness. What right..."

He choked on the flood of his emotions and, unable to go on, he rested his head against the cool window.

"You think _I_ told her...?" Eames asked, her chest beginning to heave as the surreal scene played out between them.

Bobby saw her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and heard the controlled anger in her voice. Even inebriated, he could read her, much as she hated it when he did that. "You...you didn't, did you?"

"How the hell could you think I would?" she snapped.

"Sh-she said...she said you..." His certainty was shattered. "Why? Why would she...why would she tell me...? And if you didn't...how did she find out...?"

"Those are very good questions. I can't wait to hear her answers."

* * *

When Eames pulled up to the curb in front of the bodega, Kelly came out of the building. She scowled when she saw Eames behind the wheel. Goren got out of the car and opened the back door for her. When she reached the car, she looked at the obviously angry detective. "Get in the car, Kelly," he growled, his tone distinctly unfriendly.

She obeyed without saying a word. As Eames pulled away from the curb, Goren spoke, his voice low and angry. "You said...that my partner told you about my mother's illness."

Kelly was quiet for a minute. "You must have misunderstood me," she insisted.

Goren looked at Eames, then turned to look at Kelly. Had he been sober, he would have remained silent, but he'd been in a bad mood when he started drinking and that had not improved. "I don't misunderstand people," he said. "You deliberately led me to believe she told you things she didn't. Why?"

She looked at her hands. "I didn't..."

He slammed his hand against the console between the seats, causing both Kelly and Eames to jump. "You did!" he roared, and Eames reached out, resting her hand on his arm.

He looked at her hand and realized his anger threatened to crash down on him, on all of them, just as his palm had smashed the console. He couldn't let that happen, so he took a deep breath and turned back in the seat, pulling his arm from Eames' grasp. Eames sighed softly. "You stepped over the line, Kelly."

"Line? What line?"

"What do you think you are trying to do?"

Kelly crossed her arms and looked out the window, refusing to answer. Annoyed, Eames continued driving.

When they pulled up outside the building where Kelly lived with her aunt and uncle, Kelly got out of the vehicle. "Thank you!" she called as she slammed the door closed and crossed the sidewalk.

The detectives watched her run into the building. After a moment, Eames shifted into park and turned off the engine. Goren watched her get out, hesitating before he followed her.

The doorman greeted them, and Eames pulled out her badge. "The girl who just came into the building, Kelly Larimer. She lives with her aunt and uncle?"

"Yes. Mr. And Mrs. Worster."

"When will they be back?"

The doorman looked confused. "Back? The Worsters haven't gone anywhere."

"So they're home?"

"Of course they are."

"Thank you."

When they returned to the car, Eames sat for a moment, looking straight ahead, and twisting her hands together anxiously. Finally she turned the key and started the engine. "She lied."

Goren didn't answer. His thoughts tumbled endlessly in his head and he was in no condition to concentrate on anything. He knew that Eames was furious—well, so was he--and he didn't trust himself to say the right thing. He no longer blamed Alex, but doubted he could make that clear. So he played it safe and kept silent.

Eames felt the anger rolling in waves off her partner, but she wasn't sure where it was directed and she didn't really want to find out. They needed to talk to Kelly's aunt and uncle. Kelly had gone too far and she had to do something about it, but not tonight. It would wait until tomorrow.

* * *

When Goren arrived at his desk the next morning, he was surprised to find a large cup of coffee situated in the center of it. As he picked it up, a voice from behind him said, "Drink up. We have work to do."

Turning, he looked at his partner, contrite. "Eames, I..."

She waved her hand at him. "I know. Forget it. Kelly played us, and we are going to find out why. Let's go."

* * *

The doorman directed them to the apartment where Kelly lived with her aunt and uncle. A middle-aged woman answered the door. She looked apprehensive. "May I help you?"

Eames pulled out her badge and held it out for the woman to see. "My name is Detective Eames. This is my partner, Detective Goren. You are Kelly Larimer's aunt?"

"Yes, I am. Is Kelly all right?"

Eames nodded. "She's fine, but we would like to talk with you about her, if you have a moment."

"Certainly. Please come in."

The two detectives followed her to the living room and sat on the couch. Kelly's aunt sat in a plush easy chair across from them. "My name is Melanie Worster. Kelly is my sister's daughter."

"Do you know where Kelly was last night before she came home?"

"She said she was out with friends but she refused to tell us where."

"She was in the Bronx, stranded in a not-so-nice neighborhood."

Melanie frowned. "Her friend Bethany came by to pick her up after school. Do you know how she got stranded?"

"No, we don't, but we are the ones who brought her home."

Melanie's scowl deepened. "She didn't say anything about being brought home by the police. Is she in trouble?"

Eames shook her head, trying to be reassuring. "Not at the moment. We are investigating her boyfriend's death."

The woman's face grew sad. "Oh. Poor dear Matt. What a tragedy. He was such a very nice boy."

Eames didn't react to her assessment, redirecting the conversation to Kelly. "The reason we brought Kelly home last night was because she called my partner, claiming you and your husband were out and she had no other way to get home."

Melanie let out a heavy sigh, looking at Goren and then back at Eames. "I am so sorry. My husband and I were both home all night. She could have called us at any time."

Eames looked around the room before refocusing on Melanie. "Mrs. Worster, why did Kelly's parents send her here?"

After a pause, Melanie answered, "There was a problem back in London. Kelly became involved with an older man. In order to end the relationship, my sister and her husband decided to send Kelly to live with us."

Eames heard her partner's soft groan. Melanie didn't miss it either, and she asked, "Has she been a problem?"

"Not yet, but it could be heading that way," Eames replied, looking at her partner and giving him credit for appearing bright and interested. "Kelly seems to be interested in Detective Goren. I had a talk with her the other day, and she found out some personal information about him which she used to manipulate us."

Melanie's face paled. "Please, excuse me for a moment."

The woman rose and hurried from the room. Eames looked at Goren. "There appears to be a precedent."

"Eames, this is a distraction I don't need."

She nodded. "I know, but what can we do about it? Kelly is a determined girl...and you are her intended target."

Melanie returned with a handful of papers, which she handed to the detectives. "I'm afraid Kelly used her father's position to gain access to online information."

Eames looked through the papers, which she then handed to Goren. They were filled with personal information: his address, phone number, family information, details about his mother's illness, his father's obituary...

He looked at Eames, his expression guarded. Then he looked at Melanie. "Some of this information came from restricted databases."

Melanie would not look him in the eye. "My brother-in-law has been ambassador to England since 1996, but before that he had a government job with a high security clearance. I guess he still has access to sensitive information. Kelly likes to play games, to pretend she's clueless, but she's sharp as a tack." She rubbed her hand over the arm of the chair, focusing on the pattern of the fabric. "I don't know what to say, detectives. I really don't know what to do with her sometimes."

Eames looked at Goren before she spoke again. "Thank you for talking to us, Mrs. Worster. If we need to talk with you again, may we contact you?"

Melanie nodded as they rose and she walked them to the door. "Please do. I am home most afternoons." She sighed. "I am sorry, detectives. I warned my sister that we cannot isolate Kelly from the male population. I will see what I can do."

"Thank you, Mrs. Worster. We appreciate that."

They walked out of the building in silence. Once she had pulled away from the curb, Eames said, "You could not have known she had access to all that information."

"She hacked into the department's intranet," he murmured, as though trying to convince himself of something. "And...and the medical database at Carmel Ridge. Public records is one thing, but...this takes it a step beyond that."

"She knows where you live now," Eames commented.

He found himself unable to handle what was clearly becoming an obsession with Kelly. _Not right now_, he told himself. Silently, he opened his binder and began looking over his notes as Eames drove toward 1PP. She left him alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Once they were back at their desks, Goren grabbed a stack of papers from his inbox and shuffled through them. He separated one report from the rest. "Eames..."

"What is it?"

"We...we need to see Rodgers. Uh, this is the histology portion of the autopsy."

"And we have something?"

"Well, yes and no. That's why we need to see Rodgers."

Rodgers was not surprised when the two detectives came into the morgue; she had been expecting them. "I had it narrowed down," she said, eying Goren. "Airway constriction and congestion was the ultimate cause of his death, but the exact mechanism is unclear. It was either a severe asthma attack or anaphylactic shock. So I took a look at his serology and I found massive amounts of mast cells in his blood. Anaphylaxis is what killed him."

"What was he allergic to?" he asked.

"That, detective, is the million dollar question. He would have had to have been exposed to it very close to the time of death. "

"Suppose it was ingested?"

"The reaction was severe. I would say no more than fifteen or twenty minutes after ingestion, he was dead."

Goren looked at his partner. "Let's find out what Matt was allergic to. It's time to talk to his parents."


	9. A Second Tragedy

Eames turned out of the parking garage into traffic while Goren read over the histology report. Without looking up, he said, "How are your sister and the baby?"

His question caught her off guard. "They're okay. My sister is sore but the baby is fine."

"What happened?"

"They were rear-ended on the BQE." She looked at him. "Thanks for asking."

He returned his attention to the report, but the corners of his mouth turned up a little. She suppressed a smile of her own as she made a right onto Centre Street.

* * *

Matt's family lived in a brownstone in the same neighborhood as Kelly's aunt and uncle. The door was answered by an older woman in a blue dress. Her face was filled with suspicion as she examined the two detectives. Eames showed her badge and said, "We are Detectives Eames and Goren. We're investigating Matt's death, and we need to talk with his parents."

The woman's expression changed. "Come in."

She showed them to a plush, well-appointed parlor. "Please make yourselves comfortable and I will get my son and his wife."

"Thank you, Mrs. Barrister," Eames answered.

Eames sat on a long couch and watched her partner wander around the room. He was more restless than usual, but she couldn't say she blamed him. Kelly had him off balance and she had not been able to bring him back.

Trevor and Beverly Barrister came into the room together. Trevor extended a hand as Eames rose from the couch and walked toward them. "I am Detective Eames," she introduced herself. She nodded toward Goren. "My partner is Detective Goren."

Trevor shook his hand. "We were told you attended Matt's funeral."

Goren nodded. "I...wanted to convey our sympathy."

Beverly reached out and touched his arm. "That was kind of you."

Trevor motioned to the center of the room. "Please, sit down. The chief of police told me there was some question about what happened to Matt."

Beverly covered her mouth with her hand and stifled a sob. Her husband kissed her head. "I can handle this, honey."

She shook her head. "No. I want to hear what they have to say."

Eames looked at Goren. What _did_ they have to say? She was glad when Goren took the lead. "We just had a talk with our medical examiner," he said, his tone soft and kind. "She has determined that Matt died from a sudden, severe allergic reaction. What allergies did he have?"

Beverly answered, "He was very healthy. Really, the only serious allergy we know of is to a medication, but he wasn't taking any medication. If he was, we certainly wouldn't give him that one! He had a very bad reaction to it when he was about eight."

"What medication?"

Trevor answered, "Penicillin. He had other minor allergies, like most people, but penicillin could kill him."

_Maybe it did_, Eames thought as Goren's vast knowledge of the human body kicked in. "The body's reaction to allergens can change over time. What 'minor' allergies did Matt have?"

Beverly took a deep breath. "Oh, ragweed and some grasses and tree pollens, like Trevor. Cat dander. Uh, strawberries." She looked at Trevor, who nodded. "That's all," she concluded.

"So the only severe allergy he had was to penicillin?"

"That, and poison ivy." She smiled sadly. "He went to camp when he was twelve and came home horribly blistered. He was in the hospital for two days and on steroids for two months to clear it up."

"Did he ever have any trouble breathing, related to poison ivy exposure?"

She shook her head. "No. But he hasn't been exposed to it in the past few years. He learned to identify it and avoided it like the plague."

Eames said, "Well, we're fairly sure he didn't get exposed to poison ivy out on the football field."

"He wouldn't have taken any penicillin," Trevor insisted. "He knew how allergic he was to it. He had nightmares for a long time after it almost killed him."

Goren nodded his head. "Well, thank you for your time. We will be in touch with you when we know more."

He followed Eames across the room, but stopped in the doorway, turning. "Uh, how is your daughter?"

Beverly's eyes filled with tears as Trevor answered, "She misses her brother, detective. But thank you for asking." He paused, then added, "And thank you for your consideration, for allowing us time to grieve."

Goren nodded again before following his partner out of the home.

* * *

When they got back to the squad room, Goren called Rodgers and asked her to test Matt's body and the contents of his stomach for penicillin. He hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair, watching Eames.

Sensing his gaze on her, she looked up. "What?"

He averted his eyes, trailing his finger along the edge of his binder. "I, uhm...about last night. I should have known better. I am sorry."

She tapped her pen against the reports in front of her. "I agree. You should have known better. But neither of us was prepared for Kelly. So forget it, okay? Just move on. Don't dwell on it."

He nodded but he continued to stare at the desk. "What do we do...about Kelly?"

"Good question. If we confront her, she'll just deny it."

He shook his head slowly. "We have to do something. I can't...I can't deal with this."

Eames remained quietly in thought for some time before she finally observed, "She seems determined to discredit me, in your eyes...to drive a wedge between us."

Silence lay heavy between them again, and she finally broke it by pointing out, "Bobby, she has your home address."

He shrugged. "She's 18, Eames. What is she going to do to me?"

He never saw a threat to himself for what it truly was. "She can manipulate you into a compromising situation, cry wolf, cost you your job."

She could tell by his reaction that had never occurred to him. Controlled panic flickered across his face. "S-So...what do I do? Let her drive me out of my home, disrupt my life, destroy my career?"

She struggled with her reaction to him. He was clearly at a loss and he was turning to her for help. But how could she insulate him from the threat that Kelly clearly presented? "Stay with me," she offered.

He stared at her. "So we let her disrupt both of our lives?"

"She's not interested in me, Bobby. She isn't about to waste her time putting any effort into finding out anything about me. I have a spare bedroom. She won't look for you with me, not after she thinks she caused a problem between us."

He felt a surge of anger. How the hell had it come to this? He was being harassed, stalked, by a goddam teenager. Lurching from his chair, he walked out of the squad room.

Watching him leave, Eames felt a mixture of concern and irritation. While he had not exactly invited this particular problem, he had not done anything to prevent it either. She had just made up her mind to go after him when the phone rang. She grabbed it, turning pale by the time the speaker on the other end was done talking. Hanging up the phone, she hurried off in search of her partner.

* * *

As they approached the scene, they were engulfed by an odd sense of deja vu. Students milled about, some curious, some in shock. Goren glanced around warily before focusing his attention on the young man who lay on his side on the pitcher's mound of the baseball diamond. He walked around to look at the young man's face, his somber expression changing for a moment before he regained control and his guarded expression returned. "Eames," he said before she walked away.

She walked around to his side. "Oh," she murmured softly. Their new victim was Scott Lindstrom, Matt's closet lover.

Eames approached the two adults who stood nearby as Goren began his examination of the body.

She recognized the football coach, Carl Fredericks. "Don't tell me this is another one of your players, coach," she said, giving no indication to the coach that she knew the boy.

He shook his head. "No. Scotty was a soccer player. This is Bert Carson, the head coach of the boy's soccer team. He and I were together in my office when Scott's body was found."

"Who found him?"

He motioned toward a group of students. "Those three kids over there. Charley Carson, Sally Evans and Dwayne Stevens."

Eames looked toward the students. All three of them looked shell-shocked. "And when you arrived?"

Carson shrugged his shoulders. "Dwayne came to Carl's office, looking for him because he is medically trained. We both hurried here to the field, but...it was too late. We had the office secretary call you, in case this could somehow be related to what happened to Matt."

She nodded. "Did anyone move the body?"

"Not that we are aware of, no."

She thanked them and headed toward the three teens. They had moved over to the bleachers, and they sat together. Sally was trembling, leaning heavily against Dwayne and struggling not to cry. Charley sat on Sally's other side, his face buried in his arms. "Hey, kids," Eames said as she approached. When they looked at her, she introduced herself and said, "Tell me what happened."

Charley looked around. "There's never anybody out here at lunchtime. Everybody goes over to the football field. Sally and Dwayne and I came out here today."

"Why were you coming out here?"

The boy shifted uncomfortably. "We just...We wanted a smoke. So...I...I always come out here at lunchtime, and they were with me today. The teachers, they don't bother coming out here."

"What did you see today?"

"We saw...him...laying there, on the pitcher's mound. Just...just laying there. So we came over...and...and Dwayne went to get the coach."

"Did you see anyone else out here?"

Sally pointed across the field. "There was someone running on the far side of the field, but I couldn't make out who it was."

"Was it a student?"

"I think so. He looked like he was wearing a uniform. I think so, yes."

"A boy?"

She nodded. "Girls are required to wear skirts from November until March. It was one of the boys."

"Could you tell anything else?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, detective. No."

"Did any of you know Scott?"

"Not well," Charley offered.

Sally wrapped her arms around herself. "He was very quiet, but nice. He was helping me with my math. He was smart."

"Did any of you know Matt Barrister?"

Sally and Charley shook their heads, but Dwayne nodded. "I played baseball with Matt."

"Is there anything you can tell me about him?"

"He was a good fielder, a nice guy."

Her mouth formed a tight smile. "Thanks, kids. If you can think of anything else, Coach Fredericks knows how to contact us."

She pulled out her phone and placed a call as she crossed the field to the pitcher's mound, where Goren was still bent over Scott's body. "Rodgers is on her way and so is CSU. Find anything?"

Goren leaned back on his heels, resting his arms on his knees. He stared at Scott's face. "This was a nice kid, Eames," he mused.

"So I've been told," she agreed, then she waited for him to continue.

"Matt's death...was premeditated. But this one..." He shook his head. "Whoever killed Scott didn't plan it. But it was someone with a lot of strength, or a lot of rage. Or both." He pointed toward the young man's chin. "It looks...It looks like his neck was broken." His hand continued to move. "His hands and his knees...were driven into the dirt...right here. And then...he was dropped. And whoever killed him..." He motioned toward more footprints. "...went that way."

Eames motioned toward the kids sitting in the bleachers. "The girl, Sally, she said she saw someone running at that end of the field. She said it looked like a male student, or someone dressed like a male student."

Goren nodded slowly. "His body is still warm."

Eames watched him drop his chin to his chest and she wanted to reach out to him, to touch his shoulder and offer...something. But she didn't move. He slowly got to his feet. "Come on," he murmured, walking off toward the far end of the field where Sally had seen the other student running from the field.

There was an opening in the fence and the dirt around it was soft. Goren squatted in the grass, studying the footprints in the dirt. "Fresh," he muttered, looking off toward the school, in the direction the footprints were heading. "And in a hurry."

Eames wasn't sure if he was talking to her or not. She watched him make his way around the soft dirt, careful not to disturb the soil or make any footprints himself. She attempted to follow, but her legs weren't quite long enough for her to manage it and keep her balance. He reached out and grabbed her, guiding her with a firm grasp on one arm and her waist. She looked up at his face, and the grief she saw caught her off guard. "Bobby," she whispered.

He released her once she was beside him and walked away, unwilling to discuss anything with her at the moment. Silently, she followed him toward the school.

As they approached the school, he found some loose dirt on the sidewalk nearest the field they had crossed. Pulling an evidence bag from his pocket, he gathered it and handed it to Eames, who marked it. They found nothing else, and there were no students in the area.

By the time they got back to the baseball field, CSU was there. Eames handed off the evidence bag and Goren instructed the techs to gather samples and take pictures from the far end of the field as well as from the pitcher's mound around the body.

One of the techs, one they had been working with for years, leaned toward Eames. "Is he okay, Detective Eames?"

It was rare that Goren was rattled by a crime scene. "He'll be okay," she assured him, hoping she was right.

As they walked back toward the school building, Eames hoped they would not run into Kelly. She didn't think her partner could handle the girl's intensity at the moment. Every few steps, she looked over at him, but he was not looking her way. She wanted to say something, but she was afraid to say the wrong thing. Finally, she said, "You really liked that kid."

He didn't answer right away. Finally, he looked at her. "Yes," he answered simply. "He was a quiet, sensitive kid."

"What do you think happened?"

"I think...he confronted someone about Matt's death. Maybe he knew something, or found out something, that he didn't tell us, or that he didn't have a chance to tell us. He was...devastated by Matt's death."

"Do you think he was investigating on his own?"

He gave that some thought. "No. But he may have found out something. Or someone may have found out something about him."

"You mean about him being gay?"

He nodded. "Yes. People have gotten killed for less."

"So...you think this was a gay bashing?"

"I don't know. It could have been part of it. Scott said no one knew about Matt, or about him and Matt, but he didn't say no one knew about him."

"The kids that found him didn't say anything about it."

He rubbed his chin. "Not everyone automatically jumps to those conclusions. Did they know him?"

"Not well. He was helping Sally with her math, but she didn't really know him."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did they say why they were out there?"

"They went out there for a smoke."

He chewed on his lip. "Not tobacco..."

"That was my impression. Unless high school has changed a whole lot since I went, the cigarette smokers weren't the ones ducking behind bleachers and dumpsters. They said teachers never came out to that field at lunchtime."

"So whoever killed Scott probably didn't intend to be seen, or for Scott's body to be found until later in the day, after school, at least."

She was quiet for along moment before she asked, "Bobby, do you think Kelly is involved in any of this?"

"Kelly?" He frowned and considered that. Slowly, he shook his head. "No, I don't think so. She's...assertive and determined...but I don't think she's a killer. And she had no motivation to kill Matt...or Scott." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't think it would matter to her one way or another that Scott was gay, and she doesn't have the upper body strength to snap his neck. She couldn't have overpowered him, much less killed him."

"But Roger...?"

"Roger possesses the strength and the rage. If Scott confronted him about being Matt's killer...that would be enough to knock him over the edge. Risk of disclosure would be enough to make him act." He paused, then opened his portfolio, pulling out a sheet of paper. "Roger should have been in English class over the last forty-five minutes. Let's go see if he was."


	10. On the Trail

They found out where Roger had English and walked through almost deserted hallways toward the classroom. Goren rested his hand on Eames' back and leaned into her. "We should discuss Scott in the present tense," he said, his voice hushed. "As though he's still alive."

She nodded, following his train of thought. "And watch how people react."

"Exactly."

"Detective Goren!" They turned to see Kelly and her friend Bethany approaching. Eames rolled her eyes as the girls drew closer. Goren did not need Kelly's melodrama. He had enough going on right then.

Eames watched Goren immediately tense up as the girls stopped beside him. Kelly looked up at him as he shifted his position away from her and closer to Eames. "Do you feel better?"

"Better?"

"You looked like you didn't feel well last night."

"I...I'm fine."

Eames interrupted. "Do you girls know where we can find Scott Lindstrom?"

Kelly looked thoughtful. She played with the necklace that rested just above the cleavage displayed where her shirt was open two buttons too many. She seemed comfortable being gawked at by both teenage boys and by men--in fact, she obviously loved it. She played manipulative tricks to direct their attention where she wanted it to be.

Eames glanced sideways at her partner, pleased to see that, although he naturally followed the movement of her hand, he soon realized what Kelly was doing and shifted his eyes away. Kelly apparently noticed as well, and she frowned when he looked at her friend. "I don't remember seeing Scotty at lunch," Bethany said. "So he'll be in class now...history, I think. Mr. Weaver."

Eames moved closer to them. "Do either of you girls know Scott well?"

Kelly shook her head. "Before we moved to England, I went to school with him. He was always quiet, and usually preferred to play off by himself, or sit and read."

Bethany added, "I don't think he's into dating. I don't know of any girlfriends he's had. Maybe he has his eyes on the priesthood. I don't know. But he is really nice."

Eames nodded. "Thanks, girls."

Kelly touched Goren's arm, but he moved away. She showed no reaction to his withdrawal. "We're late for math. Come on, Bethy."

Laughing, the girls hurried down the hall and the detectives continued walking in the opposite direction.

* * *

After a frustrating, fruitless discussion with Roger's English teacher, they walked in silence toward the main office. He was lost in thought, so Eames was surprised by a sudden question from him. "Do you really think Kelly would try to ruin my career?"

She sighed, sensing how off-balance he was. "I wouldn't put anything past her. You need to tread very carefully." She hesitated before adding, "And I think we need to give Deakins a heads-up."

"Deakins?"

She could tell he didn't like the idea. "Yes, Bobby. Deakins. He needs to know that whatever goes down, you are not responsible for any of it. He needs to know, right now, that you have done the right thing from the start."

"Because no one will ever believe it after the fact."

"It's called covering your ass. If you don't want to say anything, fine. I will. I am not going to watch some teeny bopper sabotage your career and hang you out to dry."

"She's hardly a teeny bopper, Eames."

"You know what I mean, Goren."

He huffed. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

* * *

They arrived at the main office and requested to see the principal. The secretary asked them to wait as she rose from her desk. Goren shifted his position a little as he watched her walk to the inner office. Eames rolled her eyes but said nothing as they waited for the secretary to announce them to her boss. She returned right away and said, "Mr. Cavanaugh will see you, detectives."

Stanley Cavanaugh rose from his desk and extended a hand toward the detectives. "Please, sit down," he invited. "Fill me in, detectives. What is going on at my school? _Two_ boys are now dead?"

Eames lowered herself into a chair as Goren made his rounds of the office, reading diplomas and the spines of books on the shelves, pulling out the books that interested him. "I'm afraid so," Eames answered, drawing the man's attention to her.

Cavanaugh shook his head slowly. "These were good boys, never in any trouble. They were both active in athletics and academics. National Honor Society members, college bound. They were both offered academic and athletic scholarships. What did they do to deserve what happened to them?"

"Maybe nothing," Goren answered as he finished his perusal of the shelves and the walls. "We need a couple of things from you, Mr. Cavanaugh. We need access to Matt and Scott's lockers and the home addresses of a few students, and a copy of the last month's attendance records."

"Of course. Do you have an idea who is killing these kids? What kind of psychopath targets children?"

Goren answered, "We don't know that yet, sir."

The principal picked up a pen. "What addresses did you need?"

Eames gave him the names of the students they wanted to talk to off campus. "Marcus Richmond, Bethany Walters, David Barnes, Roger Lassiter, Todd Faraday and Harry Devarest."

He wrote down their names as she spoke. "Are these kids in any danger?"

It was telling that he did not seem to regard any of them as potential suspects, not even Roger. Goren replied, "We don't know yet. It's possible. If we determine any of these kids are in danger, we will take the appropriate steps to protect them."

Cavanaugh rose from his desk. "Please do, detectives." He walked to the door and called to his secretary, handing her the list of names. "Please get the home addresses of these students for the detectives and give them the locker numbers and combinations for Matthew and Scott's lockers. Also make copies of the attendance records for the last month for them."

He extended his hand and wished the detectives luck. "Please keep me informed."

They waited in the outer office while the secretary gathered the information they needed.

* * *

They came upon Scott's locker first. Eames read off the numbers from the paper in front of her as Goren turned the lock with gloved hands. "37-25-13."

He pulled the locker open and looked at Eames, who commented, "My high school locker was never that neat."

Goren shuffled through textbooks and notebooks. Reaching into the locker, to the back of the shelf, he pulled out a small baggy. Eames smirked. "Pot. Every high school misfit's best friend."

Goren arched an eyebrow. "Just misfits, Eames? What about prom queens?"

She smiled. "I'll never tell."

He pulled out a well-worn paperback novel. "Shakespeare's _Hamlet_."

"For English class."

He shook his head. "No. They're doing _Julius Caesar _in English class. There were notes on the board. He was reading this on his own."

"What teenager reads _Hamlet _for fun?" When he looked at her, eyebrows arched, she said, "Don't tell me. You did."

"Actually, it was _Macbeth_, and it was challenging."

"Always looking for a challenge," she commented as he flipped through the book.

"Always," he admitted as he pulled a folded piece of paper from the book's pages and opened it. After staring at it for a moment, he held it out to Eames. She read it before slipping it into an evidence bag. The unsigned note read _Meet me at the baseball field at lunchtime_.

* * *

A similar search of Matt's locker yielded nothing and the detectives headed out of the school. As they crossed the parking lot, Eames looked up at her partner. He was looking over the attendance records, but his face was unreadable.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he answered, too quickly.

She knew better, but she let it go. He identified too closely with Scott and she was concerned. "You think Scott got caught up in circumstances?"

He thought about the note from the boy's locker. "At the very least he was set up. Someone lured him out onto that ball field."

"Do you think Kelly is involved? She is certainly manipulative and aggressive when it comes to what she wants," she said.

Goren nodded in agreement. "And she's good at it. I'm starting to see that now, how she uses her looks to her advantage, to pursue her goals. But I don't think she is involved in what happened, except peripherally. I don't see that the death of either boy benefits her in any way. Neither death gets her anything she wants."

Eames hesitated, both surprised and validated by his admission. She stopped in the middle of the parking lot, a light touch on her partner's arm halting him in mid stride. "Bobby, she _wants_ you."

Goren's normally gentle features tensed, his jaw locked and his lips turned down into a frown. "Don't remind me." He turned to look at the school and then back at his partner. He was still tense.

"Scott..." He continued toward the car. "Scott would not have responded to her like the other boys did."

Eames considered how to approach the idea. It was a sensitive subject. "Maybe she saw him as a challenge, the way she sees you."

"A challenge," he muttered. "Am I a challenge, Eames?"

The two detectives had reached the car. Eames stayed with him by the passenger door. She felt a surge of warmth for the tall, gentle man who'd been her partner for so many years and was so often misunderstood. Spontaneously, she smiled. "Yes, you are. But that's not necessarily a bad thing."

Clearly a bit anxious, Goren stared at the ground and swayed a little, side to side. Finally, hesitantly, he began, "I...I didn't see...what she was doing. I didn't want to see it. She...uh..." He looked up and straight into her eyes. His brown gaze bore into her. "You saw it, right from the start. Thanks, for watching out for me."

His intensity moved her, and her heart began to pound. She forced her voice to remain calm. "Someone has to. Sometimes you forget about that."

"Watching out for myself? Yeah. I get...focused on the case. But you...you always keep me in mind, and, well...thank you. I, uh, I need you... uh, well… to…you know…."

And then a small smile, but it reached his eyes and touched her deep inside.

"Yes, Bobby. I know." She cleared her throat. "I guess we better get going. We have people to talk to."

She stepped away from him and walked around the vehicle. They got into the SUV and left the school.

* * *

As Eames drove toward the address they had been given for Roger's residence, she asked, "Have you decided to accept my offer yet?"

"What offer?"

"To stay at my place."

He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "I don't know, Eames. I...Do you really think she'd show up at my door?"

"Do you really think she won't?"

He was silent, staring out his window, but his hands were knotted into fists. "I don't know," he said, and she could hear the tension in his voice.

"Just think about it. Think about what will happen when she does show up at your door."

Eames seemed to know what she was talking about, and he had no experience with teenage girls...not since he'd been a teenage boy, anyway. Just what _would _he do if Kelly turned up at his door? "Uh...I'll...I'll need to get some clothes...you know...a toothbrush..."

She found his shy hesitancy amusing, but she kept that to herself. "We can stop by your place when we're done for the day. Really, Bobby, you are not putting me out at all."

"If you say so, Eames."

She noticed that he did not relax at all, and she wondered if he even realized it.

* * *

The Lassiters lived in a nice, well-kept home in a quiet, upscale neighborhood. Goren paced on the small porch as Eames rang the bell a second time. The door finally opened, slowly. Marcy Lassiter was a slender, well-groomed woman. Her dark hair was gathered on her head, not a strand out of place. But she had the demeanor of a prey animal, her eyes constantly darting around, up and down the street. She nervously smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. "May I help you?" she asked, insincere.

Eames held up her badge. "I'm Detective Eames and this is my partner, Detective Goren. We are investigating the deaths of a couple of students at your son's school. We would like to have a word with you."

"Oh, I'm afraid I have nothing to say. Roger is a good boy." She looked at Goren. "You should come back when my husband is home and talk to him."

Annoyed, Eames asked, "Why is that, Mrs. Lassiter?"

"Steven deals with Roger and his school issues. If you want to know about Roger, you have to talk to Steven. And you should send _him _back to talk with Steven, alone."

"That's not how we work, and we would like to talk..."

"I'm sorry. I can't help you. Come back later and talk to Steven." She stared at Eames nervously. "If you must."

Like a frightened rabbit, she slipped back into the house and locked the door. Eames stared at the closed door for a moment. "Well...that was interesting."

Goren looked thoughtful. "She's terrified."

Eames turned and started down the steps. "I can't wait to meet her husband."

"Be careful what you wish for, Eames," Goren cautioned as he followed her away from the house. Glancing back, he saw the curtains on the front window flutter and anger clenched his gut. No woman should live in fear of her husband like that. There was no way he would return to this home without Eames. He couldn't trust his temper and he knew it. He had spoken the truth when he told Eames he needed her. He sensed that she knew it, but he wondered if she knew how much.


	11. Misogyny Breeds Anger

Deakins leaned back in his chair and studied the two frustrated detectives in front of him. Agitated, Goren couldn't stay still. The captain ran a hand over his gray hair and sighed heavily. "And you did nothing to invite this attention from the girl?"

Goren stopped his pacing and looked at him. "Do you think I did?"

Deakins raised his hands. "Settle down." He looked at Eames. "Do you think it's a problem, Eames?"

"Potentially, yes. That's why we're here. Bobby has done nothing to invite or encourage this girl's attention. She seems to have a crush on him and she is aggressively pursuing it. It's not his fault, so we thought it prudent to bring this to your attention, just in case."

"Good thinking. If you want me to intervene with her parents, let me know."

Goren became restless again. "Uh, her parents are in England. Her father is the US ambassador. She was sent to stay with her aunt and uncle because of a similar situation."

"Her parents didn't want to deal with the situation so they sent her away?"

Goren shrugged and the captain sighed. "Did you talk to the aunt and uncle?"

Eames nodded. "The aunt, yes. For all the good it did."

"Wonderful." He watched Goren for a minute. "All right. Be careful. Do not let yourself be maneuvered into being alone with this girl."

"Yeah, well...she, uh, she hacked into several databases, sir. She knows about my mother, where I live, she even had a copy of my father's obituary."

Deakins frowned. "What databases?"

"One at Carmel Ridge, the NYPD intranet..."

"Whoa...she hacked into our intranet?"

Both detectives nodded. "It seems she has access to her father's security clearance," Eames clarified.

Deakins rubbed his head. "This is...I'm going to talk to Carver. I won't have my detectives being harassed. This is going to end."

"Captain..." Goren began.

Deakins cut him off. "Don't argue with me, Bobby. I am not going to risk your well being or your career. I will handle it. End of argument. Are you done for the day?"

Goren shook his head. "We have two more interviews to do."

"Get them done, then. Bobby, if this girl knows where you live, you should think twice about staying there alone..."

"Already taken care of, Captain," Eames assured him. "He's staying in my spare room."

"Good," Deakins said. "Now get back to work."

They left the office and Goren gathered his binder from his desk. "I'm an awful lot of trouble," he commented.

"Think so? I never noticed."

He studied her. "Really?"

She gave him a warm smile. "Really, Bobby. Now let's go talk to Bethany and her parents so we can get over to Roger's. I can't wait to meet his father."

"And the captain thinks _I'm_ a troublemaker."

Her laugh coaxed a smile from him as he followed her from the squad room.

* * *

Goren looked toward the street from the porch at Bethany's home, distracted. Bethany pulled open the front door and looked in surprise at the two detectives. She stared for a moment. "Detectives...uh, what are you doing here?"

As Goren turned away from the yard, Eames said, "Hello, Bethany. We wanted to talk to you and your parents."

"My parents? Why?"

"It's part of our investigation."

She looked at Goren, unnerved by his silence. "My father isn't home."

"But your mother is?"

"Y-Yes."

"That's fine."

From deeper in the house, a woman's voice called out, "Beth? Who's at the door?"

"It's the police, Momma."

She stepped back to let the detectives into the house as her mother approached from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. The home was filled with the aroma of cooking food. "I am Carol Walters. Is something wrong, officers?"

Eames gave her a smile. Carol had a rich Southern accent and a warm, genuine charm. "Hello, Mrs. Walters. I am Detective Eames and this is Detective Goren. We are investigating the deaths of two boys at Bethany's school."

"Oh, yes. She told me what happened. It's horrible. Those poor boys. Please, come into the kitchen and we'll talk. I have to keep an eye on dinner."

They followed Bethany and her mother into the kitchen at the back of the house. Bethany sat at the table and watched Goren as he and Eames talked with her mother. She was surprised when he walked to the stove and investigated the meal her mother was preparing.

Eames ignored her curious partner. "Did you know either of the boys, Mrs. Walters?"

"Yes. Matt was here a few times for dinner with Kelly. He was such a polite, well-mannered boy."

She looked at Goren, who lifted the lid off a pot and studied the contents. He thought for a moment, then looked at her. "Uh, sage. A little sage will complement the turkey breast you have in the oven and it will add some flavor to these greens."

"Sage? Really?"

He nodded. "Do you have any?"

She pointed toward a cupboard across the large kitchen. "Over there."

He smiled. "Away from the heat and moisture of the stove and sink. Very smart."

She returned his smile and Bethany glowed. Eames shook her head. He had a way of setting people at their ease that she had never seen in another cop. A quiet cough brought Carol's attention back to her. "Do you know Kelly very well, Mrs. Walters?"

"Oh, yes. Kelly is here quite often. Such is the nature of best friends. My son is quite taken with her, but she was dating Matt, and the poor thing has been so lost since he died."

Eames would have rolled her eyes if Carol had not been watching her. "We've noticed. How old is your son?"

"Twenty. He goes to Hudson. An art history major. He's very smart."

"And Kelly has shown no interest in him?"

"Not at all."

"Mrs. Walters," Goren called. "Would you mind giving me a hand? I'm having trouble locating the sage."

Carol scurried across the kitchen and Eames turned her attention to Bethany, who had reacted to her mother's assertion that Kelly had not been interested in her son. Eames waited until she was certain her partner had Carol's full attention. "Bethany?"

The girl hesitated. "My mother doesn't know what goes on behind closed doors," she said softly, watching her mother search for the sage as Goren stepped back and glanced across the kitchen at her. She had a feeling he knew exactly where the sage was. "Kelly is my best friend."

"This is important, Bethany."

Another moment of hesitation. "She's been sleeping with Tim for the last month," she said softly, staring at her hands. "Kelly...Kelly loves sex, and she will engage any guy who's interested. That's a lot of guys, detective."

"And you?"

She shook her head. "Kelly also loves to be watched. Her friendship comes at a cost."

"Ah! Here it is! I wonder how it got way back there," Carol announced.

"Yes, I wonder," said Eames as she rose from the table, giving Bethany a sympathetic look. "We should be going now."

Carol smiled at Goren. "Thank you for your suggestion, detective," she said as he finished sprinkling sage into her pot of greens. "I was raised in Savannah, and I never thought to add sage to my greens. It smells wonderful."

He returned her smile and placed the spice jar in her hand. "Glad to help. Enjoy your dinner and thank you for talking to us."

Carol stirred her greens and replaced the lid. "I wish I could have been more helpful. Good luck with your investigation."

Goren looked at Bethany and gave her a cautious smile, which she returned with a shy tip of her head as she got up to show them out. Once certain her mother would remain in the kitchen, she said, "Please, don't tell Kelly what I told you. She'd be furious." She looked at Goren. "She likes you a lot."

Eames nodded. "Yeah, we've noticed that. Don't worry, Bethany. We won't say anything."

Bethany shifted uncomfortably, rubbing her hands over her arms. "She never made me watch her with Matt. I think he was against it. But there have been other times...and my brother..." She shuddered. "She really gets off on it, and Timmy loves the way she is when someone watches. Usually it's his friends, but when they're here...guess who gets elected."

Eames nodded. "We get the picture. Thank you for your honesty, Bethany."

They started down the steps into the garden. Goren turned suddenly. "Bethany?"

She stopped before closing the door. "Yes, detective?"

"Roger? Has Kelly ever slept with Roger?"

Bethany laughed, but there was no amusement in the sound. "Oh, my God, yes. Roger can be...vigorous and he's a show off. Kelly loves it."

He nodded. "Thank you."

They walked down the street toward the car. "That's a nice image," Eames said.

"There are several pathologies at work here," Goren muttered. "Exhibitionism... addiction... voyeurism..."

"Voyeurism?"

"I didn't get a strong impression that Bethany objected to watching, except maybe when her brother was involved."

Eames let out a heavy breath. "What a mess."

He nodded. "And speaking of messes, it's time to introduce you to Steven Lassiter."

She smirked. "I'm excited. Let's get going."

He grinned as he slid into the car. "This is going to be interesting."

* * *

After ringing the bell at the Lassiter residence, the two detectives didn't wait long for the door to open. Eames held out her badge to the man who glared at them from the doorway. "Mr. Lassiter, we are Detectives Eames and Goren. We would like to talk with you and your wife about recent deaths at your son's school."

Steven Lassiter looked her over silently. He was a stocky, muscular man with an air of arrogance about him. His eyes moved slowly to Goren. He stepped back, granting silent permission for the detectives to enter his home. He led them to a small living room. "My wife has nothing to say."

"We would still like her to be here," Eames insisted.

Again, Lassiter looked at Goren, who stood in silence behind his partner. Lassiter called over his shoulder. "Get in here!"

Marcy Lassiter entered the room through a different doorway. Lassiter pointed to a chair and his wife sat in it. Goren frowned. The man picked up a tumbler of whiskey from a small table near a chair where he had apparently been reading the paper. He turned and addressed Goren. "What do you want?"

Eames began, "We are investigating..."

"I wasn't talking to you, lady," he snapped, returning his attention to Goren.

Goren looked at Eames, his expression dark. She inclined her head slightly, then shifted her attention back to Lassiter. "As I was saying..." she said.

Angry, Lassiter pointed at her. "I want you to sit there and shut up. I will talk to him. One man to another."

Fire flashed in her eyes and she looked at Goren, who motioned to her with a tip of his head. Angrily, she moved off to trade places with him. He did not sit down, choosing instead to stand by the window. While Lassiter's attention was on him, Eames could observe without drawing unwanted attention to herself.

Goren said, "Mr. Lassiter, we are investigating the deaths of two young men at your son's school. We have come to you for information about what you know of your son's involvement with these two boys. As an attorney, you understand the importance of cooperating with an active investigation and we expect that much from you now."

"I don't know how I can help you."

"Do you know either of the boys who were killed?"

"Why would I? My son's friends are of no concern to me. Roger has his own life. As long as he never kowtows to some woman, I have no reason to intervene."

Eames looked at Marcy, who sat timidly in the chair where her husband had ordered her. Goren was focused on Lassiter. "You don't like women," he observed.

"They serve their purpose. Some of them, like my wife, know their place. Others, like your partner, have not yet learned that."

Goren arched his eyebrows. "You think my partner hasn't earned her position as a police detective."

"No woman could. It's above them. She needs to find a good man to put her in her place. Maybe you...if you think you can handle her."

Goren laughed. "I have no control over who gets assigned as my partner, but I have a job to do."

"Can't you request another partner? It's beneath you to be tied to a woman in your profession."

The smirk did not leave his face. "We aren't here to discuss my partner, Mr. Lassiter. We are here to discuss your son."

"Detective, if Roger had a reason to act against anyone, that's his business. I taught him to take matters into his own hands and I encourage it. Probably some pansy-ass wimps who deserved a beatdown."

For the first time, Marcy spoke. "Roger would never do that!" she exclaimed.

Lassiter turned toward her. "Did I ask for your input?"

Averting her eyes, Marcy shook her head. "No, Steven."

"So sit there and shut up."

She was quiet for a moment, gathering the courage to speak again. "But Roger wouldn't. He's a good boy!"

Lassiter rose and walked to his wife. "When I want your opinion," he snarled. "I will tell you to give it. Until then, just sit there."

"But he is a good boy!" she insisted, desperate to defend her only child.

Reaching out, Lassiter grasped his wife's shoulders, leaning close. "I said, shut up," he said, his voice low and angry.

Eames did not like the look she saw on her partner's face. She could only describe it as dangerous. He was solely focused on Lassiter and he took two steps in the man's direction. Eames took just as many steps toward him, drawing his attention with her movement. She shook her head. Clenching his jaw and both fists, he backed off, reluctantly, as Lassiter returned to his chair, his expression warning his wife to behave. He turned his attention back to Goren. "We won't be interrupted again," he assured the big detective, who had once again regained control of himself. "As I was saying, if Roger played any role in what happened to those boys, I would be inclined to say they had it coming."

Eames stared at him. "You would encourage your son to take a life?"

"Of course not, _detective_. But if he sees the need to teach some kid a lesson, no one will stand in his way. Roger knows better than to take it too far. I'm certain he played no role in their immediate deaths."

Goren flexed his left hand to relieve a cramp. "Survival of the fittest. The strong dominate the weak."

"See—you understand! I would have been remiss in my responsibilities to my son if I hadn't taught him that."

"I get that. I get it." Goren stepped away from the window, waving his hand in the air. "Women, inferior men...you taught Roger right. You taught him how to handle them, with a firm hand and no tolerance."

"Exactly. Women are good for only one thing and Roger knows that."

"Really? Please tell me what that one thing is, counsellor."

Lassiter waved his hand in the air, pleased to educate a man he looked down on for obviously not recognizing such fundamental relationship issues in his own life. "It's really a two-fold thing, all encompassed under the same umbrella. It's a woman's sole responsibility to take care of her man. You know...make his home comfortable, provide him with good food, and meet his needs in the bedroom, whatever they are. The other part of her responsibility is to give him sons."

Goren rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Sons..." he mused.

"Of course. What real man wants a daughter?"

Goren was struggling, but he hid it well. "Because it's a man's world, and no woman belongs in a man's world."

"Yes! So you _are_ angry to be saddled with an inferior partner!"

Goren laughed, which Lassiter misunderstood. He grinned at the lawyer. "I am not in any position to negotiate." He wandered back to the window, deliberately not looking at Eames. He didn't particularly want to see her expression. "Is Roger healthy, Mr. Lassiter?" he asked, almost desperate to change the subject.

"Healthy as a horse, like a boy should be."

"No colds, no flu?"

Lassiter shrugged. "I don't get involved in that." He barked at Marcy, who jumped. "Has the kid been sick?"

"Last month," she said, her voice subdued. "He had a throat infection."

"Did they prescribe anything for it?"

"Yes. Some white pills. I don't know what they were."

Goren nodded and asked, "Did he finish them?"

Furious that the detective dared to address Marcy, Lassiter lurched to his feet. "I think we're done talking. If my kid was wimpy enough to need pills, what does it matter? Have a nice day, Detective Goren."

Goren looked from Lassiter to his wife before he nodded, glancing at Eames, who was frowning. He looked back at Lassiter. "Thank you for talking to us, Mr. Lassiter."

As they left the house and descended the porch steps, Eames said, "What a charming man."

Goren could hear the anger that made her voice tremble. "Eames..."

"Don't 'Eames' me!"

"Come on. You don't think I meant any of that! You know me better."

"Just...don't talk to me right now."

He huffed, annoyed, but said no more. She started the engine and pulled away from the curb while Goren looked out the window, silent.


	12. Aftermath

**A/N: This chapter gave me a little bit of trouble, so many thanks to TigerGorenRocks for her help!!!!**

* * *

The ride to Brooklyn was silent. As she pulled up to his apartment, he turned to face her. "Can I talk to you now?"

She drew in a deep, steadying breath. "He just...God! He pissed me off."

He nodded. "I understand that."

"Let's go inside. I won't discuss this out here in the car."

Reluctantly, he tucked his thoughts into a corner of his mind and got out of the Explorer. Once inside the apartment, he said, "I hope you know I did what I had to do."

"The way he treats his wife! And I was ready to pop him when he started that shit with me."

He nodded, sympathetic. He'd felt the same way. "He's a misogynist, Eames. If I had told him how I really feel about being partners with you, we would never have gotten anything from him." He shrugged. "I told him what he wanted to hear. That doesn't mean I believe any of it. You know I don't." He went into the kitchen and grabbed two beers from the refrigerator, calling to her, "We need to call Carver first thing in the morning for a search warrant. We have to find out what medication they gave Roger for his throat infection."

She stepped into the doorway. "He got to you, too."

He leaned his hip against the counter, holding out a beer to her. "He did." He flexed his left hand, still sore from being clenched so hard. "But you, uh, reminded me...I-I kept my temper. It wasn't easy."

She opened the beer. "It would have been counter-productive to assault the man in his home."

"That would have been difficult to explain to Deakins."

"When he told me to sit there and shut up, I almost came unglued. But you kept a handle on it until he went after his wife."

He placed a hand on the back of his neck and rubbed. "That-That doesn't mean I wasn't angry. But she was so...timid. She's been beaten down, all these years of being treated like...like a sub-human by him."

"Can you imagine what Roger learned about women from him?"

He recalled Roger's eyes and his voice, filled with rage. _Why do you belittle your position by partnering with a woman?_ "I can," he said softly. "That boy is full of rage, and he cannot accept a woman in a position of authority over him."

His mind was spinning. He moved suddenly, retrieving his binder from the coffee table where he'd tossed it when he came in through the door. Shuffling through the papers, he pulled out the attendance sheets, scanning them. "Roger has six classes. Two of them have male teachers, and he rarely cuts those classes. The other four...he cuts them routinely. His father's example...pervades his life. He'll never be called on the carpet for this, either, because of his father's influence. Lassiter is a bastard, but a powerful one." He shuffled through some more papers. "He, uh, he's a partner in an influential firm, lots of high profile cases, lots of money changing hands. I can guarantee he's not one who ever takes a case _pro_ _bono_. He can pick and choose his clients."

"How much you wanna bet none of them are female?"

He nodded absently. "In his world view, women are not worth defending, but I'm sure he takes a token female client from time to time."

"Can I shoot him? Please?"

He looked up, not registering the sarcasm right away. He scratched his head behind his left ear. "The warrant...We'll have to be careful. Carver won't like this at all. Roger's room, the common areas of the home, his locker at school."

"Another high school locker. How did we get so lucky?"

"We should hit the locker first, then the home. Lassiter will be gone by the time we get there."

She sat beside him on the couch. "Are we going to bring Roger in for questioning?"

"Let's see what we find, but I'm thinking, yeah. We are."

She looked pleased, but the moment passed. She touched his arm briefly. "Why don't you pack your bag, you know, get your toothbrush and whatever you need, and we'll go to my place."

He didn't move. Once again, he was having second thoughts about imposing on his partner, about giving up the privacy he valued so dearly. "I don't know. Maybe that isn't such a good idea, after all."

"Come on, Bobby. Don't do this. We told the captain we are taking precautions against Kelly putting you in a bad situation. Don't back out now."

He gave it some thought for a moment before he finally rose and walked down the hall to his bedroom.

She cared about him, about what happened to him, and she would do whatever needed to be done to protect him, particularly when he had difficulty recognizing a threat.

He was still in the bedroom when the doorbell rang, so she answered the door. Pulling it open, she was caught off-guard but not completely surprised to see Kelly standing in the doorway.

Kelly seemed surprised to find Eames answering Goren's door. "Ah, uhm, Detective Eames. I...I was looking for Detective Goren."

Eames took in the girl's clothes. Her shirt was tight and dipped low, revealing ample amounts of cleavage. Her skirt was hiked high and spiked heel shoes set off her long toned legs. Her musky perfume assaulted Eames' senses and the pungent scent clung to her hair, gathered high atop her head. With effort, Eames did not roll her eyes. "I'm sorry, Kelly, but Detective Goren isn't available."

"We were supposed to hook up tonight."

"Really? Hm. He didn't tell me he had plans tonight."

Anger surged in Kelly. Her face flushed and her eyes blazed. "Does he have to clear everything with you?"

"Of course not, but he usually tells me when he's busy, that is, when he's doing something he isn't ashamed of."

"He's not ashamed of me," she snapped, furious. "And if he could visit Bethany, he can see me! I--We had plans!"

Slowly, Eames shook her head. "I'm sorry, Kelly, but work comes before play. Believe me, I know how _that_ goes. I'm afraid he's going to have to break your date tonight. Don't worry. I'll tell him it's my fault, so he won't blame you."

Kelly glared at her, beside herself with anger. With a screech of frustration, she stormed away from the apartment.

Eames closed the door and smiled, amused. Turning, she saw Goren standing a few feet away, looking stricken. "Eames, I swear, I never..."

She raised a hand. "It's okay, Bobby. I know. Apparently, Bethany told her about our visit and she decided to move in on you, to claim you as her own, I suppose. It's okay. I broke your date."

He looked almost panicked. "Date?"

"She said you were going to 'hook up'."

Wearily, Goren sank down in the closest chair and, groaning, he buried his head in his arms. Eames approached him, reading the tension in his posture and hearing defeat in his voice. She placed both hands on his arms and knelt in front of him. "This is exactly why you need to stay at my place. She is not going to leave you alone now."

He raised his head to look at her. "So what do I do? I am not living with you indefinitely, Eames, and I'm not moving. How do I get rid of her?"

Eames rubbed his arm, and smiled. "Bobby, this won't go on forever. We just have to figure out how to discourage her and force her to move on to greener pastures."

"And just how do we discourage her....uh, we?"

She leaned forward, so close their bodies almost touched. She looked directly into troubled brown eyes, determined to soothe them. "Yes, Bobby. We. And I don't know yet. But we'll find a way. Trust me."

An extended silence settled heavily around them, one of those moments in time that signified an important shift about to occur. "I do trust you," he revealed, finally.

Eames knew that he had reached a significant conclusion, and she suspected it involved her. She studied his face, and decided now was not the time to probe for details, so she drew back and stood. "Come on, let's get going. I'm hungry."

With a nod, he rose. His overnight bag and a garment bag were near the couch. All he had to do was pack his toothbrush, deodorant, cologne and shaving supplies, and then he was ready to go. He watered his plants and left with Eames. He was annoyed that his life was being so thoroughly disrupted by a disturbed and sexually aggressive teenager, but for the first time in a long time, he knew he wouldn't have to face a fight alone.

* * *

After a light dinner, they both got changed. Goren wandered into the living room, dressed in gray sweats and an old Yankees jersey, and saw Eames in flannel bottoms and a tank, curled on one end of the sofa. Undecided where to sit, he froze, rubbing his jaw. Then he eyed the small recliner next to the sofa.

"C'mon, Goren." She thumped the cushion beside her with a small, manicured foot, and he was distracted by bright red polish on delicate, curled toes. "Right here. Sit. Bobby!"

"Huh?" Goren had to move his head to tear his gaze away from her feet, a sight he'd rarely had the pleasure of viewing.

"If you sit right now, I'll consider letting you examine my toes."

"What?" Busted and flustered, his entire body heated and he knew he was flushed. But temptation trumped embarrassment and he quickly lowered his tired body next to Eames. Their difference in size seemed magnified in her cozy home, both dressed in what essentially were pajamas, and he felt like Goliath sitting next to Tinkerbell.

"Here I sit," he announced, and arched his brows.

Eames laughed, and he smiled in response to the warm and welcomed sound. "You hope I don't notice what you're doing and thinking, but I do!" she grumbled, yet she stretched and delicately positioned her feet on his lap.

Pushing all prurient thoughts to the far recesses of his consciousness, he gently held one foot in both his hands.

"Let's see, all ten toes perfectly painted, with little," he squinted, "stars and… what are they…"

"Moons."

"Moons?"

"Yeah, you know. Crescent moons."

"Okay, okay, I see that now. How… do you do this? You –you don't have the patience."

"You're right. But my manicurist does."

"You have this done?"

"Yep. I like it. It makes me feel…" she blushed as he watched her, fascinated. She cleared her throat. "Feel, um, feminine."

"You know," he began. "There are actually two kinds of crescent moon. The waning and the waxing, depending on which hemisphere …"

"Oh, God, Bobby!"

"What is it?" He'd begun to gently rub the balls of her feet with his thumbs.

"They're just… just little sparkly things, Bobby."

He smiled, watching her body relax and settle more comfortably into the cushions. "Well, I know but," he carefully grasped her ankle, raising her toes to eye level, "Eames, here on your pinky – it's a tiny heart!"

"That can't be right." Her voice was slippery with fatigue. She made a half-hearted effort to lean over and look closely, but soon gave up and sank back down on to the pillows. "I asked for the 'Stars and Moons' collection. Not supposed to be hearts..."

She flashed a sleepy grin, and he felt a twinge of affection claw at his chest.

"Well, this is a heart. And not only that, it's gold." He continued kneading her feet, pleased with her little sighs and smiles of satisfaction.

"What do you think it means?"

"Means?" Goren concentrated on working her feet, and then he looked up. "I don't know. Maybe something as simple as the way to your heart is through a…"

He paused while they shared an intense look, one that lasted a few beats too long. So then, he cleared his throat, which was suddenly as dry as wrung out sponge. "Through a perfect pedicure?" he finished.

Eames studied him silently while he continued to massage her feet. Then out of nowhere, she was overcome by a deep yawn. Goren squeezed both warm feet and commented, "It's been a long day."

"Yeah, it has."

"I think it's time to get some sleep," he said quietly, managing to keep his voice steady.

"You're right. I'll show you where to go."

He reluctantly let her go, assigning the entire exchange to a safe place, where he could safely access it at another time.


	13. Search of the Lassiter Home

Goren finished shaving, applied his aftershave, and ran his hands through his still damp hair. He draped the damp towel from around his neck over the towel rack and turned off the light as he stepped out of the steamy bathroom. His eyes had not adjusted to the darkness, so he sensed rather than saw movement further down the hallway. _Eames_.

When she flipped on the light, they both stood still, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the brightness. For a moment, they stared at each other.

He shifted uncomfortably. "I, uh, I didn't mean to wake you."

"The alarm clock woke me," she assured him.

For a moment, they stared at each other, standing less than a foot apart in the hallway.

Her hair was disheveled and she was still sleepy; his mind strayed, conjuring images of her, curled up in her bed. She was dressed in the same clothes she'd been wearing last night, and he now tried very hard not to notice she wore nothing underneath it.

He was dressed only in his suit slacks and black socks, no shirt. The dampness in his hair tightened its curl and his face looked fresh. She became acutely aware of the scent of his aftershave as her eyes roamed over his bare chest, back to his face.

Finally, after trying to moisten his lips with a dry tongue, he found his voice. "Are-Are you sure? I can get up earlier, while you're still sleeping more soundly..."

"I'm positive you didn't wake me. I recognize the evil blare of my alarm clock. Honestly, you don't have to shower at three instead of four." She started to slip past him. "I'll get the coffee going..."

"Wait," he said, stopping her when he extended his arm. She stepped into it before halting her forward momentum, and he curled it around her waist, his fingers resting lightly on her hip. Surprised, she looked at him with amber eyes that were no longer sleepy. He inclined his head toward her. "The coffee is made. I started it before I shaved."

Her face lit up and he could not help responding to her with a smile of his own. She rested her hand on his arm. "Fresh coffee I didn't have to make...I could get used to this. I'll just jump in the shower while you finish getting ready."

She didn't move or look away from his face for a moment. Finally, she moved her fingers on his arm, tapping lightly. "If you don't let me go, we're going to be late," she said.

Her voice carried a husky tone he had never heard before, but he didn't take any time to dwell on it. He pulled his arm back as though he'd been burned. "Oh, uh, okay...I'll go, uhm..." He motioned toward the spare bedroom. "So you can...you know..."

Amused, she stepped away from him. "I'll be right out."

He watched her disappear into her bedroom before entering the room he was staying in. He closed the door quietly and took his shirt off its hanger. His fist tightened around the shirt and he leaned back against the door. When he closed his eyes, images danced through his head, heating his body and setting the stage for a very long day. Snug-fitting dark blue flannel with no panty lines...a blue tank top that left little to the imagination when her nipples hardened in the chill of the morning...small feet, perfectly groomed, perched on his lap, engulfed by his hands...and the little sounds she made as he massaged them... _oh, damn_.

* * *

It took more effort than the detectives anticipated to convince Carver to seek the search warrant they were after. Once all the evidence was laid out before him and he took the time to run his mind over it, Carver included both Bethany and Kelly's school lockers in the search.

Before Carver left to get a judge to sign the warrant, Goren touched his arm and said, "If you can...get a female judge to sign the order."

Carver looked at him as he walked toward the door, then he left the room. He returned ten minutes later.

"Bring me something I can use, detectives," he said as he held out the papers, signed by Judge Miriam Gardner.

* * *

As Eames drove away from Hogan Place, she looked at the time. "Has our buddy Steven left for work?"

"We'll find out," he answered, distracted.

She glanced at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. What makes you think something's wrong?"

"You seem subdued. Usually the thrill of the chase has you bouncing in your seat."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and slowly shook his head. "It's not the case."

"Kelly still have you rattled?"

"I still...I didn't expect her to actually show up at my apartment, Eames."

"You should have expected it," she replied, doing her best not to make it sound like an accusation.

"An-and she keeps...trying to somehow drive a wedge between you and me."

"That's not going to happen," she assured him.

He raised his head and looked at her. "It almost worked...the...the first time."

"Before we knew what she was up to...and that was you, jumping to conclusions."

Opening his mouth to argue, he thought better of it and closed it. She was right. He had jumped to conclusions. He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck instead of speaking. Looking out the window, he didn't say anything more.

* * *

Eames pulled up in front of the Lassiter residence, wondering why there was an empty place directly in front of the building. After stepping out of the vehicle, Goren stood beside the car, facing it and following the curb up and down the street with his eyes, apparently wondering the same thing. The front door of the Lassiter residence opened and Marcy came hurrying out. "You can't park there..." She froze when Goren turned and she realized who was taking her husband's parking place. "Detectives...Steven isn't home. You have to leave."

Eames stepped up onto the sidewalk as several officers crossed the street and stood by to help with the execution of the warrant. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Lassiter. We can't do that." She held a paper out to Marcy and waited for her to take it. "We have a search warrant that covers your son's room and the common areas of the house. It's all in there."

Marcy's already pale face lost another few shades of color. "Oh, no. You can't come in. Not with Steven out of the house..."

Goren moved closer. His voice was gentle. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Lassiter. You don't have a choice in the matter. We have to execute this search warrant." He guided her back up the steps toward the front door. "Let's go into the living room."

"But you don't understand. Steven will be furious."

"I do understand." He guided her into the house and down the hall to the living room. "You're afraid of him, of his disapproval."

She watched Eames and the officers walk toward the kitchen, twisting her hands together anxiously. "He is going to be so angry," she mourned, hugging herself as she sat heavily on the couch.

Goren pulled out his phone, opened it and held it out to her. "Call him. Then you will have done everything you can."

She studied his face, seeing only kindness. Taking the phone, she dialed. Giving her privacy, he left the room to join his partner in the kitchen. Eames held up a prescription bottle and rattled it. "Roger Lassiter," she read from the label. "Penicillin. Someone didn't finish all his medicine like he was supposed to." She opened the bottle and looked into it. "There are four pills left in here."

She was pleased and he nodded. Marcy appeared in the doorway, holding Goren's phone out to him. "He wants to talk to you." She saw the pill bottle in Eames' hand. "That's Roger's medicine. You can't take that."

Goren held the phone against his shirt. "It's listed on the warrant, Mrs. Lassiter. Let's go back into the living room so my partner and the officers can do their job."

Marcy looked at Eames, then at the bottle in her hand. Her face radiated worry and sorrow. Goren motioned toward the hallway that led to the living room, unconcerned about keeping Lassiter waiting. As he followed her back to the living room, he placed the phone to his ear. "This is Detective Goren."

The voice on the other end of the line trembled with barely controlled rage. "What are you doing in my home?"

"Executing a search warrant. Your wife has a copy of it."

"She should not have let you in until I got there!"

"I'm afraid she didn't have much choice, counsellor. You know that."

"What the hell was she doing? Napping?"

Goren seriously doubted that Marcy ever napped. "No. She was policing your parking spot, just the way she's supposed to."

Lassiter fairly exploded with fury. "What!?"

The man's squawk was mildly satisfying. "She did nothing wrong. You know we have the force of the law behind us."

"Do _not _let that woman you hang around with touch anything of mine."

He was sorely tempted to have Eames rummage through Lassiter's things just for the hell of it. "Detective Eames is doing her job, and she'll touch whatever she feels she needs to touch."

He could have sworn that the man snarled. "I'm on my way."

_Perfect. Let's throw some gasoline on this fire._ He slid his phone into his pocket and turned to Marcy Lassiter. "Mrs. Lassiter, you can't help your son any more. Whatever he's done is done, and he must stand accountable for it. But you _can _help yourself. You know that Steven will blame you for this, but it's not in any way your fault. The judge's signature on that paper gives us a legal right to be here. Steven knows that, but he will still blame you." He tipped his head to the side and waited for her to look at him. When she finally glanced up, he said, "That does not make it your fault. You need to know that. If he was home, we would still be here, still searching. But I wouldn't have a chance to talk to you." He slipped a sheet of paper from his pocket and placed it in her hand. When she did not jerk away from him, he allowed one hand to remain on hers. "Look over that list of women's shelters. If you want, I'll take it back when Steven gets here, but take the time now to review it. When we leave, my partner and I will take you to the shelter of your choice."

"Steven will never let me leave."

"Steven will not have a choice if you leave with us."

"You don't know what he's capable of, detective."

He leaned in a little closer, his dark eyes warm and encouraging, his voice soft. "Going to a shelter is your first step toward reclaiming your life, Mrs. Lassiter."

"I...I...can't..."

He cupped both hands around hers and leaned over even further to keep contact with her eyes. "Now is the time for you to be strong," he encouraged. "You've put up with his abuse for all these years because of Roger. But Roger is no longer part of the equation. Now you have to take care of yourself for a change, and there is nothing wrong with that."

"But Roger..." Her eyes filled with tears. "He'll be all alone..."

Goren shook his head. "No one will keep you from your son. You are not leaving Roger, and he has nothing to do with this. This is about you, about leaving a bad situation and getting _your _life back."

She shifted her eyes, the only part of her body that moved. "If I do this," she said hesitantly. "There is no going back for me."

"I would hope that, given time, you would never want to go back. It will be difficult to break away, but it's time to move forward. The people at the shelters, they are trained. They will help you get a new start, and they will protect you from Steven."

She gave it some thought as she held on to his gaze. Her eyes filled with tears but they did not fall. "I don't know..." she trailed off and looked away. "Steven doesn't like to lose...anything."

He tried not to let any frustration show, focusing on gentle persuasion. "You are not a possession. No one owns you. Please let us take you to a shelter. If you want to pack a small bag, my partner and I can come back with another court order to get anything else you want."

She continued to hold his gaze, something she had not done with a man in many years. "You would do that for me?"

"Yes."

He did not hesitate with his answer, and his willingness to take what she saw as a big risk on her behalf gave her the incentive she needed to do what he asked her to do. She rose from the couch, sliding her hand from his, and walked away, toward the stairs. Goren watched her leave the room, and he joined Eames in the kitchen. She looked up from a drawer she was looking through. "Has she calmed down?"

He nodded as he pulled on a pair of gloves. "She's upstairs, packing a bag."

"Packing?"

He motioned at a drawer and she shook her head, indicating she had not yet gone through it. He began looking through the drawer. "When we leave, she's coming with us. We're dropping her off at a shelter before we go to the school."

Eames stared at him, but he didn't look up. She admired his ability to connect, not only with women, but with traumatized victims. They responded naturally to his kind words and his gentle way with them. "Should we send the guys in to search the living room?"

"That's a good idea," he agreed. "Where are they now?"

"Dining room and laundry room. I'll be right back."

She returned to find him dropping a small stack of letters back into the drawer, with the exception of one. Opening it, he read the single page that he withdrew from the envelope. "Uh, it's from Yale. Roger...was not accepted. I wonder..." His eyes got a faraway look that Eames knew well. She waited for him to continue. He looked toward the living room and then back, frowning. Silently, he folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope. Pulling an evidence bag from his pocket, he slid the letter into it, sealed it and wrote on the bag. "The kitchen, it's not a room Steven ever really spends any time in. He...he doesn't know...she was keeping this from him, to protect Roger. Yale may mean something to his father."

"His alma mater, maybe."

"We should find out."

She looked around the room. "I think we're done in here." She nodded toward the pocket he had tucked the evidence bag into. "You bagged it, to protect her."

He nodded. "He'll go nuts if he finds out she has kept this from him. He doesn't need to find this out right now."

Protect the weak, the abused...She motioned toward the stairs. "Roger's room is next. Ready?"

"Let's go."

They had just started to search Roger's room when they heard a door slam downstairs, followed by shouting. Lassiter was home. Goren looked at his partner. "Keep looking. I'll deal with him."

"Good idea. I'd shoot him."

"Exactly."

He pulled off his gloves as he left the room. Lassiter turned from his cowering wife at the sound of heavy footfalls on the stairs. He approached Goren as he entered the room. "How _dare_ you violate the sanctity of my home!"

Goren did not miss the quiet sobs that came from the couch. He tamped down his anger and addressed Lassiter. "Mr. Lassiter, your wife had no choice but to let us in when we got here. You know that. There is no reason for you to take out your anger on her."

Lassiter's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You listen to me, you self-important bastard. This is my home! _No_ _one_ steps through that door without my presence, court order or no court order!"

"Is that so? I'm sure Judge Gardner would be very interested in your opinion of her office."

"Gardner? Is _that_ who signed the warrant? I will challenge it in court and it will never stand!"

Goren laughed, which served to further infuriate Lassiter. He shook his head slowly. "We are here lawfully, Mr. Lassiter, and your wife did nothing wrong. Regardless of who was home, we would be carrying out our search."

"That search warrant won't stand. And how _dare _you presume to tell me how to conduct myself with _my _wife! Get out of my house now and spare yourself some grief," Lassiter snarled.

"Or what? You'll call the police?" He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, taking pains to appear amused. "We'll leave, Mr. Lassiter, as soon as we're done executing our search warrant."

Lassiter sputtered and swore. People never defied him. He wanted to lay this insolent cop out, but the last thing he needed was to be charged with assaulting an officer. He was still in control enough not to strike out at the wrong target. He turned away from Goren and stormed around the room, raging, "I cannot believe this is happening!" He waved a hand toward Marcy. "You...you and that kid..._you _are responsible for this and I won't forget that!"

Goren saw the fear on Marcy's face before she looked down at the floor, averting her eyes from the men. "I think your abuse has gone on long enough," Goren said.

Lassiter balled his fists and turned toward the detective, who had not moved. "Abuse!?! How _dare _you violate my home and make such an unfounded accusation against me!!"

Goren kept his dark glare on Lassiter "Me, my, mine," he said, half-mocking. "What about your wife?"

"My wife? She has no say in this."

"Apparently, she has no say in anything. Mrs. Lassiter?"

Marcy looked up at him, shifting her gaze briefly toward Steven. Her resolve wavered at the sight of his anger, but, looking at Goren, she was able to get past that. "Yes, detective."

"You agree, then, to what we discussed?"

"Yes, detective."

"It might be best if you sit outside in our vehicle and wait. We won't be much longer."

"What?" Lassiter sputtered. "What the hell are you talking about? She's not going anywhere, least of all with you."

At the sound of her husband's roar of outrage, Marcy hesitated. But the thought that she would never have to hear that roar again was emboldening, and she rose from the couch.

Lassiter pointed at her. "You stay right there, you spineless, simpering slut."

Goren moved, prepared to intervene if Lassiter decided to physically interfere with his wife's departure. The enraged attorney was shocked when his wife crossed the room. When he heard the front door open and close, he bellowed like a wounded animal. "You," he growled at Goren. "You're screwing her, the worthless, unfaithful ingrate! How could you let her manipulate you that way! No wonder she let you into the house!"

Goren stared at the raging lawyer, wondering how he arrived at his conclusions. He placed the blame for everything on Marcy. He bore none of it himself, and gave none to Goren, the man he accused of being her lover. It was all Marcy. Goren neither denied nor validated Lassiter's ranting.

When Lassiter stormed toward him, he did not react and the lawyer backed down, a momentary confusion flickering across his face. It was then that Goren realized that there were only two motivators that Lassiter understood: sex and fear. If he could not dominate with one, he would rule by the other. But he had no hold on Goren at all, and that gave him pause.

Goren motioned to one of the officers who had made an appearance, unnoticed, when Lassiter began shouting. When the man moved closer, Goren instructed him. "Mrs. Lassiter is in our Explorer. Take another officer with you and stay out there with her. See that no one disturbs her." He inclined his head toward Lassiter. "No contact."

"Yes, detective."

"You can't do that," Lassiter yelled at Goren.

Goren returned his glare. "Yes, I can, and I am." He looked at the officer. "If he refuses to comply, arrest him."

"Yes, detective."

Goren watched him leave the house before he moved to the hallway, motioning to another officer who was carrying a box toward the front door. Goren took the box and said, "Is your partner nearby?"

"In the kitchen."

"I need for you both to keep Mr. Lassiter company. His wife is in my vehicle and I don't want any contact between them."

"Yes, sir."

He handed the box off to another officer and went upstairs, back to Roger's room. Closing the door behind him, he leaned back against it and closed his eyes. "This case is going to kill me, Eames."

She placed a box back on the dresser and looked at him. "What happened down there?"

"Lassiter is not happy."

"I gathered that from all the shouting."

"He..." Taking a deep breath, he was determined not to let his anger get the better of him. "He blames his wife for everything. She's waiting in the car for us."

"How did you do that?"

Opening his eyes, he looked at her. There was a look in her eyes he had not seen before and he wasn't sure how he should interpret it. "Do what?"

"Convince her to go to a shelter."

He shrugged. "It's what she needs to do. I just helped her realize it."

"You know the psychology of abused women, and she's had his shit drilled into her for the last twenty years or so. Women like her don't just change their minds."

"I'm willing to guess it's something she has been thinking about. We are just giving her an opportunity to safely act on it."

"I'm sure she's had more than one opportunity to leave in the last two decades."

"Would you have gone and left behind your only real reason for living with that man, knowing how he's always treated you?"

"Roger."

He nodded. "Roger is the biggest reason she stayed, and now that...that tether has been severed. Now she _can_ leave, and we are giving her the chance to do it."

Calmer now, he looked around the room again. Every shelf held trophies heralding Roger's achievements in sports. The bed was made with plain navy blue sheets and a dark comforter. Eames walked over to the nightstand beside the bed and motioned for him to join her. "You have to see this," she said.

She pulled open the top drawer. In amid the condoms and lubricating jellies was a collection of sex toys. His mouth curved into a half-grin. "Interesting."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"For now. We should bag and tag these."

"Seriously?"

"Of course. They could be relevant."

She searched his face. "Kelly?"

At the mention of the girl's name, his back stiffened. Eames reached out and touched his arm. He settled and stepped away from her. "Let's get done so we can get the hell out of here."

* * *

Lassiter was waiting for them as they came down the stairs. "You have not heard the last from me," he snarled at Goren, shaking his fist at him. "I'll get her back."

"I am not stealing your wife, Mr. Lassiter. I'm protecting her."

"Pro-Protecting her??" he sputtered. "What the hell from?"

Eames couldn't help replying, "From you."

Goren remained between Lassiter and Eames. He could read the hatred in Lassiter's eyes, and he would not have been surprised if the man finally lost his control and lashed out at Eames. It was time for them to go. "We're done here, Mr. Lassiter. Your copy of the warrant is on your coffee table. We'll show ourselves out."

"I'll have your jobs, both of you!" Lassiter yelled as Goren maneuvered Eames in front of him, away from Lassiter.

Goren grasped the door as Eames pulled it open. "Some days, he can have it," he murmured as he followed her out of the house.

They crossed the sidewalk to the SUV and Goren nodded at the officers. He patted the shoulder of the closest officer. "Thanks. Did he give you any trouble?"

"He tried. We didn't let him get away with it."

"Good job."

Goren slid into the passenger seat and turned toward Marcy as Eames started the car, pulling away from the house. He watched the woman in the back seat visibly relax as they drove down the street. "Where are we taking you, Mrs. Lassiter?"

She handed the paper back to him and gave him the address of one of the shelters in Queens. "My sister lives in Queens, and I have not been allowed to talk to her for the last seven years. Maybe we can reconnect..." She trailed off and hesitated. "Detective, my son...what is going to happen to him?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly.

"He-he murdered those boys, didn't he?"

He paused. "We're still investigating that. Do you think he could have done it?"

She rubbed her hand along the back edge of the seat. "Roger...has Steven's temper. If he was antagonized...I don't know what he's capable of. When he was about seven, I told him he couldn't watch his favorite cartoon, as a punishment for something he had done at school. He threatened me and Steven...commended him for it. He told my little boy that all women have to be taught their places. As a woman, I am...stupid, inconsequential..."

Goren studied her. "You don't believe that, do you?"

"That I'm stupid? No. That I'm inconsequential? Aren't we all?" She stared at the backs of her hands. "Detective Goren, my son...please...tell me what will happen..."

"I don't know." He was quiet for a moment. "He's almost eighteen, Mrs. Lassiter. There's nothing more you can do for him."

Slowly, he turned to face front again and tried not to listen to the sobs that came from the back seat.


	14. The First Arrest

Eames parked her car outside the school after they had taken Marcy to the shelter she chose in Queens. Goren let her use his phone to call her sister. She thanked them profusely once she felt safe within the walls of the shelter itself. They left her in the hands of the director and proceeded to the school to conduct their locker searches.

They began their search with Roger's locker. Item by item, Goren removed its contents. Books, letterman jacket, binders, notebooks...

He began to pull things off the shelf. A paper bag containing two boxes of condoms. A bottle of ibuprofen, which Goren opened. He studied the pills, then dropped them back into the bottle and handed it to Eames, who bagged it. He looked back into the locker and shook his head. "That's it."

He put everything back in the locker except one notebook. Flipping through it, he removed a page of handwritten notes and handed it to Eames for bagging. "We need handwriting samples to compare with the writing on the note we found in Scott's locker."

Eames nodded, disappointed that they found nothing else in Roger's locker.

Silently, they walked down the hall toward Kelly and Bethany's lockers. They searched Bethany's locker, at first finding nothing more than schoolbooks, a blue sweater and a ski jacket. Shoved in between her science book and her history book, though, Goren found a magazine. His eyebrows arched when he pulled it out, and he turned the cover toward Eames. "_Hunks and Hotties_," he said, amused.

"I wonder who that belongs to," she mused, stepping to his side as he flipped through it.

A Kodak picture envelope and a DVD were shoved in with the centerfold. He handed the magazine to Eames and pulled the pictures from the envelope. "Uh, apparently...Bethany likes to do more than watch."

He handed them over to Eames, and she looked through them. The explicit pictures showed both girls with different boys, including Roger, performing various 'favors' for them. The last few pictures showed the two girls together, doing the same for each other. In the background of one picture, Roger watched eagerly. She tapped the picture. "I wonder who the photographer was."

"Bethany's brother? Or maybe one of Roger's buddies?"

She looked through the pictures again, shaking her head. "Compared to this, I was tame."

A small, amused smile touched his lips. "What?" she said.

"I would never classify you as tame, Eames."

She shoved the pictures against his chest. "Like you would know," she teased back.

He took the pictures and held up the DVD. "It's labeled 'Halloween'."

"I can't wait to see what's on it."

He slid the pictures back into their envelope and handed them to Eames, along with the DVD. He fished out a handwriting sample, replaced everything in the locker and moved on to Kelly's, which was three lockers away from Bethany's.

Upon opening Kelly's locker, they were assaulted by a thick cloud of perfume that wafted from the inside of the locker. Goren began to empty it. Text books, notebooks, a black suede jacket and a pink sweater. He removed a small cardboard box from the top shelf and opened it. "Uh, Eames..."

She looked into the box, which contained about two dozen condoms, birth control pills, and a generous assortment of sex toys. "Her school locker...interesting hiding place."

He handed her the box and looked back into the locker. After removing two bottles of expensive perfume, he pulled out a plain brown paper bag. He removed a small container from the bag. Slowly, he unscrewed the lid. "It's a...a pill crusher. I, uh, I had to use one like it...when I was a teenager." He looked toward Eames, but did not meet her eyes. "To, uhm, to crush my mother's medicine, when she was non-compliant." His face took on a guilty look at the memory. "I hid the powdered pills in her food, in something like pudding or ice cream, mashed potatoes. She never knew."

Eames was very careful to keep her face from showing anything more than interest and concern. If he saw any trace of pity, she knew from experience, he would get angry and shut down. Although she could not relate to his childhood experiences, she felt compassion for him and his brother, and anger toward the parents who had abused them. She never felt pity for him, but that wouldn't prevent him from misinterpreting a stray look. Wisely, she hid her strongest feelings and made no comment.

He looked into the body of the pill crusher, tapping it against the heel of his hand. "There's a white powder in here."

He replaced the cap and handed it to her, then looked back into the locker. "There's nothing else in here."

Eames nodded. "This is enough. Let's get it back to the lab. If this white powder is penicillin, we'll have Carver issue an arrest warrant for Kelly."

* * *

As they walked back to the car, he pondered over what they'd found. Eames tried to read his silence, but she realized she had no idea what was going through his head. So she put forth what was going through her own mind. "Do you think Roger has anything to do with that pill crusher?"

He looked at her, his mind tumbling through a dozen thoughts. "I do," he finally replied. "I just...I don't see that Kelly has a motive. But Roger..."

When he didn't elaborate, she asked, "So how did Kelly end up with it? And why use a pill crusher? Two spoons and a razor blade would do the job just as well and one pass under a running tap eliminates the evidence."

"He wasn't trying to dispose of the evidence," he said. "He..." He trailed off for a moment, lost in thought. "Finding the pill crusher in Kelly's locker implicates her...and casts reasonable doubt on Roger's guilt."

She nodded. "He's smart."

"He's a lawyer's son. He understands the importance of reasonable doubt." He paused. "If it is penicillin, we need to see if it came from the same lot as Roger's medicine."

"Are you hoping to get Kelly off?"

He shook his head slowly. "I want to find whoever is guilty, Eames. If it's Kelly, so be it. If Roger is involved, I want him, too. I...I want to find Matt's killer, for his parents and his little sister. And I...need to find Scott's killer...so I can sleep at night again."

She looked at him. "He got to you."

"He, uh, he was a nice kid. He didn't deserve what happened to him. He does deserve justice. It's all I can do for him now."

"And that's important to you."

He stopped at the car and leaned back against the hood, folding his arms over his chest. "Yes."

She considered his loyalty for a moment. He felt deeply for a gentle, quiet gay kid...but that wasn't what he identified with. Scott didn't fit in with any specific crowd, so he lingered on the periphery, not sure just where he belonged. That was what Goren identified with. The outsider, rejected by his father, largely cast adrift by an ineffectual mother, overlooked by his peers. Slowly, she nodded. "We'll get this killer," she promised him.

She walked past him to get into the car, and he did the same when she started the engine. He slid into the passenger seat. "You mean that."

"Of course I do. Those boys should not be dead and I want to find who killed them as much as you do." She looked at him and added, "Almost."

A small smile started to cross his features, but it faded as quickly as it appeared. She put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking spot.

* * *

Goren spent the afternoon alone in an interview room, studying the evidence from the case. He was restless and agitated as they waited for Rodgers to complete testing on the medicine and the powder from the pill crusher they found in Kelly's locker.

Eames came and went as the afternoon wore on, trying to settle him without success. When he refused to take time for lunch, she became frustrated, swearing to leave him alone for the rest of the afternoon. Her resolve faded, however, and she brought him two slices of pizza and a can of coke along with a report from the lab.

He finally smiled when she set the food on the table. "I'm sorry, Eames. I'm just...I want to know. I'm not always good at waiting."

She grinned. "That's okay. I'm never good at waiting." She held up the report. "They got one good print and two partials from the pill crusher."

She understood that his mind had to always be engaged. She sat down as he grabbed a piece of pizza and turned back to the pictures he'd stuck up on the wall. He pointed to pictures of the shoeprints. "The shoe prints...the ones on the pitcher's mound match the ones at the far end of the field. They are comparing them to the shoes they bagged from Roger's closet."

"You probably should know...Roger's dad is raising a real stink about this. He's claiming harassment and kidnapping."

"Kidnapping? You mean his wife? He has no grounds."

"I know, but he can't say we stole his property, which is all he sees her as. He's a blowhard. Carver said he's filing charges that we forcibly removed his wife from their home. I guess he can't fathom the possibility that she would ever leave on her own. This could get ugly."

Goren seemed to dismiss the threat. "I didn't expect him to take it lying down."

"Do you think she would testify, if it comes to that?"

He rubbed his hand over his face, then rested his arms on the table. He stared at his hands. "I don't know, Eames. He intimidates her. I don't know if she'd be willing to face him again."

She sat beside him. "Maybe you can talk to her."

He turned his head to look at her. "What good would that do?"

She reached out and rested her hand on his arm. "Don't underestimate yourself, Bobby," she said.

His brow furrowed, but the door opened and one of their squadmates handed a report to her. She studied the page before handing it to Goren. "Penicillin," he murmured. "From the same lot that was given to Roger..." He looked at Eames. "How do you want to handle this?"

She drew circles on the table in front of her as she thought about it. "If we arrest Kelly, maybe Roger will think he's off the hook and do something stupid."

"I doubt if Roger has ever done anything spontaneously. He was taught to think before acting."

She rested her hands flat on the table. "Everyone screws up, Bobby. Let's arrest Kelly and see what comes of it."

He paused before he nodded, and even then he seemed reluctant to Eames. She touched his arm as he stood. "What are you thinking?"

His eyes cruised over her face, but he did not answer her. Silently, he left the room. With a sigh, she rose and followed him.

* * *

Although classes were done for the day, they made an educated guess that Kelly would still be at school, watching the football team practice. They were right.

Kelly was sitting in the bleachers with Bethany, watching the boys on the practice field. She leaned over to whisper to Bethany, pointing out onto the field. Bethany giggled and whispered back, then both girls laughed.

Bethany saw them first, and she nudged Kelly, whose face lit up when she saw Goren. She ignored Eames. When Goren motioned to her, she leapt from her seat with a delighted giggle and hurried to him. "You want to see me?" she asked coyly.

He didn't have to look at Eames to know she was rolling her eyes again. They were going to roll right out of her head before this case was over. He slipped his handcuffs from his belt and spoke quietly to Kelly. "Kelly, we're placing you under arrest for the murder of Matthew Barrister. Come along with us."

She was stunned as Eames turned her around and Goren pulled her hands behind her, placing the cuffs on her wrists. "What?" she screeched as he turned her around and each detective grabbed an arm, leading her off the field. "Are you out of your minds? He was my boyfriend!"

"Weirder things have happened," Eames commented.

"Shut up, bitch!" Kelly screamed at her.

Goren's hand tightened on her arm. "That's enough," he growled, injecting enough menace into his tone to surprise Kelly into momentary silence.

Eames handed him the keys after they put Kelly in the back seat, and she slid in beside her. That angered Kelly even more; she'd expected Goren to want to sit with her. She kicked the back of the seat. "I don't want to sit with her," she insisted.

Goren adjusted the seat before looking in the rearview mirror. "Don't you think you're in enough trouble? Just sit there and be quiet. You'll have a chance to say your piece after we get you back to the squad room."

He shifted his gaze to Eames as he started the car. He wasn't surprised when Kelly complained the entire way back to 1 PP.

* * *

Kelly was further annoyed when Eames was the only one who came into interrogation to talk with her. Goren and Deakins watched from behind the glass. "Why do you think we brought you in, Kelly?" Eames began.

"I don't know. Jealousy?"

"Jealousy?"

"Of course. You're jealous because he wants me instead of you."

Eames stared at her for a moment. "Kelly, we don't arrest people for that."

Kelly's eyes narrowed. "He wants _me_," she insisted, unable to comprehend that a man would not desire her.

"No, he doesn't. Detective Goren has done nothing but try to convince you he's _not _interested in you."

She waved her hand in the air. "It's all an act. He didn't fight too much when I kissed him."

"And when was that?"

"Outside the church, the day of Matt's funeral." Kelly's eyes narrowed. "You weren't there," she taunted. "I was, and I could tell right then that he wanted me."

Kelly clearly saw Eames as competition, and that annoyed the detective. Slowly losing patience with Kelly's adolescent game, she warned, "Kelly, this is real. It's not a game. You are suspected of murder, and Detective Goren cannot help you. You need to help yourself."

In the observation room, Deakins looked at Goren. "Do I want to know?"

Goren shrugged. "There's nothing to know. I went to Matt's funeral and she met me on the steps outside the church."

"She kissed you?"

He nodded. "She surprised me."

"Was that the only time?"

"No, sir. She did it again at the game we went to. Eames saw that one. I...I have done nothing to encourage her, captain."

"I believe you. Now it's time to discourage her. Are you ready to play bad cop?"

He nodded, still not convinced of Kelly's guilt, though he couldn't explain why. Kelly was sexually promiscuous and convinced no male could resist her. Matt would represent another potential conquest--and another potential partner. Kelly would turn away neither.

Grabbing an evidence bag and his binder, he left observation and entered interrogation. He sat beside Eames. Setting the evidence bag containing the pill crusher on the table, he said, "Tell us what this is."

She stared at him, surprised by his cold, stern manner. She jumped when he slammed his hand on the table. "What is this, Kelly?"

Finally, she looked at the thing in the bag. "Where did you get that?" she wondered. "I put that in my locker after Roger gave it to me. He told me to get rid of it."

Goren arched a brow. "So you hid it in your locker?"

"It was safe there. Where did you get it?"

"From your locker," Eames answered.

She looked from Goren to Eames and then back. "Why were you in my locker? Who said you could go into my locker?"

Eames replied, "Our search warrant did."

"Search warrant? For _my_ locker? Why? What did you think..." She paused, recalling Goren's words: _under arrest for the murder of Matthew Barrister._ She looked directly at Goren. "How can _you_ think I had anything to do with Matt's death?"

He lifted the evidence bag and dropped it back on the table. "This tells us you're involved."

Her eyes lit with fury and she swiped the bag off the table. "That tells you nothing! What does that have to do with any of this?"

"That," Eames said. "That is the murder weapon."

"That? That killed Matt? No, you see, I told you, Roger gave it to me and I put it in my locker!"

"You led us to believe you had nothing to do with Roger."

She shrugged. "I don't have anything to do with him!"

Goren pulled the pictures from his binder, spreading them out on the table in front of her. "These pictures tell us differently."

Kelly looked at the pictures, unable to hide her interest. She looked carefully at each one, a small smile on her face. "So?" she said finally, not embarrassed by the photos. "I have sex with him. So what? It means nothing. It's just sex. That doesn't mean I'm ever involved with anything else he does! Whatever that thing is, it's Roger's, not mine!"

A tapping on the glass behind them stopped the interrogation. Kelly watched Goren gather the pictures. "Do you like what you see?" she asked, leaning over the table to make sure he had a good view down her open shirt. He glanced at her face, his own unreadable, then rose and left the room.

Eames motioned at Kelly. "Sit tight. I'll be back."

"What about him?"

Eames shook her head but didn't answer as she stepped out of the room. She joined her partner and Deakins in the observation room. "Persistent, isn't she?" the captain said, half-amused.

Goren leaned against the wall beside the observation window. "Kelly is very shallow and self-centered. If something doesn't benefit her directly, I don't see her being involved. She had absolutely nothing to gain by Matt's death."

"What about Scott?" Eames asked.

He shook his head. "She doesn't have the physical strength to have killed him. Besides, Scott was convinced she had no idea about him and Matt."

Deakins nodded toward the window. "Find out if she knew, Alex."

Eames returned to the interrogation room. She sat across from Kelly and asked, "When you were dating Matt, you were sleeping with other boys, right?"

"Of course. Matt wasn't sleeping with me yet and I have my needs."

Eames struggled not to roll her eyes. "Did Matt know?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea. I never hid it. If he knew, he never said anything. Besides, Matt wasn't the jealous type."

"Suppose Matt was seeing someone else while he was dating you?"

Kelly laughed. "You're kidding, right? Why would he want to be with someone else?"

"You don't think that's fair? You were sleeping around."

"But Matt was with _me_. I could give him everything he needed. All he had to do was ask."

"No, Kelly, you couldn't. You see, Matt _was_ with someone else during the time he was seeing you. He was with someone he truly loved, and it wasn't you."

"What are you talking about? That's nonsense!"

"Matt was with Scott Lindstrom. You were just his cover, so he could continue being a jock."

Kelly stared at her in disbelief before she began to laugh. "You can't be serious. You think he preferred another boy over _me_! That's a good one, detective."

"I know he preferred Scott over you, because that's exactly what Scott told my partner."

"He's lying!"

"Why would he do that, Kelly? What did he get by lying about it, when the only one he told was Detective Goren?"

"No!" Kelly screamed at her. "No! Lies! Those are lies!"

She banged her fists on the table and began crying. Eames couldn't decide if it was a histrionic show or if Kelly was being genuine. She rose and returned to observation. "I cast my vote for 'no'. I don't think she knew."

Goren nodded in agreement. "So where's her motive? She had a handsome piece of eye candy she could call her boyfriend and plenty of lovers to satisfy her since he wouldn't, including Bethany. Matt let her do whatever she wanted. She had no reason to kill him."

Eames sighed. "Along the same lines, what's Roger's motive? If he wanted Kelly, he could have her any time, and according to Bethany, he did. So he had all the bennies and none of the hassles associated with a high maintenance girl like her. And he got to watch her and Bethany get it on, which some guys really get off on."

"Maybe Kelly wasn't a factor. It's common knowledge that Roger hated Matt. He was competition on the field as well as off. Matt was popular with other students and with the faculty. He was a good solid player. He didn't have to cheat to win. Roger had a lot of pressure from his father to be a winner. Matt made him look bad. Men have killed for less."

Deakins considered the debate. "Let's hang on to her. I'll have her returned to holding. You two bring Roger in." He looked at the time. "Take a marked car with you and be careful. You'll have to pick him up from home."

Goren didn't move. "Lassiter won't let us touch his son without an arrest warrant."

Deakins nodded. "I'll call Carver. I think we have enough for an arrest. Swing by Hogan Place on your way to the Lassiter residence."


	15. A Painful Confession

Eames pulled up behind the marked unit outside the Lassiter residence and cut the engine. She looked at Goren. "Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," he answered.

As they stepped onto the sidewalk, Goren motioned at the uniformed partners to join them. They stepped up onto the porch and Eames rang the bell.

Steven Lassiter answered the door with a drink in his hand. He glared at the two detectives. "What are you doing here?"

Eames held up a folded paper. "We have a warrant for your son's arrest, Mr. Lassiter."

"First my wife, now my son. What is it with you people?"

"We're doing our job."

"What charge have you trumped up for Roger?"

"Murder."

"What? Get off my property, lady, and take your gorilla with you."

He moved to shut the door, but Goren stuck his foot in the doorway. "Don't, counsellor. You know the law. Now step out of the way and let us do our job."

The attorney glared at him, but Goren did not move. Lassiter was not used to dealing with people he could not intimidate. With slow deliberation, he finally moved away from the door.

"Where is Roger?" Eames asked.

Lassiter held out his hand. "Let me see that warrant."

She handed it to him and waited while he read it. He motioned toward the stairs. "You know where his room is."

The two detectives ascended the stairs, followed by the patrol officers. Goren knocked once, then pushed open Roger's door. Roger was in bed with someone. He spun off her and shouted, "Get the hell out of here!"

Goren glanced at the girl, not particularly surprised to see that it was Bethany. She pulled the sheet up to her chin and watched Goren lean over to pick up Roger's pants. He tossed them at the enraged boy. "You're going for a ride, kid. Get dressed."

Eames stood in the hall with the other officers as Goren waited for Roger to dress. Then he cuffed the boy. "Roger Lassiter, you are under arrest for the murder of Matthew Barrister."

"What? You're off your rocker! Wait until my dad gets done with the two of you! You won't be able to write a parking ticket!"

Goren shoved him along. "Let's go, big man. You have the right to remain silent..."

At the bottom of the stairs, Goren passed him over to the other officers for transport to the squad. He and Eames went into the living room, where Lassiter was standing at the window, looking out. He heard the cops enter the room. "My family...you've destroyed it. First, my wife. Now, my son. What do I have left in your wake? Nothing."

"He'll be at the Major Case Squad, Mr. Lassiter," Goren informed him.

Eames frowned at the tone of her partner's voice. Sympathy? She followed him out of the house. "How can you feel any sympathy for him? This is all his own doing."

"I don't feel sympathy for him, Eames. We did what was right by Marcy and Roger is his father's creation. But that doesn't mean it was wrong to tell him what he wanted to hear."

She shook her head as she got into the car. "You're something else, Goren."

"Is that good or bad?"

She looked at him before starting the engine. There was genuine concern on his face. She smiled. "It's good, Bobby."

She could not find fault with the man's heart. She watched him relax, then shifted into drive and pulled away from Lassiter's broken home.

* * *

Roger paced the interrogation room as Deakins watched him through the one way glass. Goren and Eames stood behind him, waiting. After a moment, the captain looked at them. "Step into him before his father gets here. See what you can get from him."

Roger spun toward the door when it opened and scowled when Eames came into the room. He wasn't surprised to see Goren right behind her. "Well, if it isn't the lady detective and her pet," he sneered.

Eames ignored the crack. "Sit down, Roger."

"I'd rather stand."

Roger watched warily as Goren wandered past the table behind his partner. His expression was menacing enough to cause Roger to rethink his position. He decided to sit down, but he took his time sauntering to the chair. His posture remained cocky and self-assured.

Eames began the interrogation. "We know what you did, Roger, and pretty soon we'll be able to add another charge to your indictment."

"Oh, yeah? What charge would that be?"

"Once our lab matches your shoes to the ones found at the scene of Scott Lindstrom's murder, you'll be good for his death, too."

He snorted. "Where do you think you're going to get my shoes?"

"Oh, we already have them because we conducted a search of your home."

The cocky expression faltered for a moment. Then it returned, accompanied by a sneer. "Yeah, right. Like my dad would allow that to happen."

"No, you see, your dad had no choice. We had a warrant."

He looked from one detective to the other. "My mother...she let you in." He pointed at Goren. "You sweet-talked her, just like you did with Kelly."

Goren arched his eyebrows. "What makes you say that?"

Roger gave another derisive snort. "So the pet can speak. My mother is a typical woman, weak-willed in the face of a man. What did you do to her?"

Eames replied, "Don't worry. Your mother is safe."

The sneer faded. "Safe? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Goren took over. "We'll get back to that. We also had a court order to search your locker at school."

Roger shrugged. "So?"

Eames added, "We searched Kelly's locker as well, and we found the pill crusher you asked her to stash."

The expression on Roger's face changed to one of surprise, then fury. Before he could say anything, though, the door opened and his father came into the room. "Out, detectives. I need to speak with my client."

The detectives exchanged a look, then left the room. They rejoined Deakins in the observation room. "Kelly was telling the truth. Roger did give her that pill crusher. But he didn't know she'd put it in her locker," Eames said.

Goren nodded. "Even if he did, I don't think he expected us to search her locker. Arresting Kelly was a surprise move. He never expected that. But he'd be happy to let her take the fall."

Eames frowned, her tone bitter. "Because he picked up on his father's misogyny. Women are of no consequence."

"I wouldn't say that, Eames. Women do serve a purpose for Roger."

"Sex?"

He nodded. "Sex and entertainment. We won't find a mark on those girls. He doesn't hate women. He just thinks they have a single purpose—men's pleasure. That's why he has issues with women in a position of authority—his teachers, you. You don't fit the mold."

"What about his mother?"

"Mothers are always special. But even Roger's mother was subservient. She existed to meet his needs and his father's. Beyond his view of their roles in his life, Roger sees women as inconsequential. He neither hates them nor likes them. They're just there. He picked up on his father's hatred for women, but his own attitude was tempered by his mother's influence."

"Because of mom, he couldn't hate women, and because of dad, he couldn't like them."

"Right. So he chose the middle road. They don't matter one way or another except to serve his wants and needs."

"So what happened with Matt?"

Goren leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. "That's another area of his personality. Roger has a pathological need to control every aspect of his life, to be the best in every area. Like his father, he seeks to control others by intimidation. But Matt—he couldn't intimidate him. In fact, Matt challenged Roger. On top of that, he showed him up. He was better than Roger in school, on the field, in social circles. So Roger decided to eliminate the threat. Matt's murder had nothing to do with Kelly."

Deakins nodded. "Great theory. Now get in there and prove it."

* * *

Eames sat down across from Roger and his father while Goren lingered in the background, reading a report that had been handed to him as they entered the room. He looked up as Eames opened a folder. "The prints we took when we brought you in, Roger—they match the prints we found on the pill crusher you gave to Kelly. And the residue in the container, it was penicillin, from the same lot that you were prescribed for your throat infection, the same medicine that was used to spike Matt's drink and send him into anaphylactic shock."

"Why would I do that, and how would I know what he's allergic to?"

Steven Lassiter waited, watching Goren, who stood in the corner, observing. Eames continued, "Why don't you tell us that?"

Roger's mouth turned up in a smile. "Now why would I do that, lady?"

From the corner, Goren asked, "How long have you known Matt?"

"Since kindergarten."

"Were you always rivals?"

"I guess so."

"And what about Scott Lindstrom?"

"What about him?"

"Did you know him, too?"

"I knew who he was but we...cruised in different circles."

"You and Matt...belonged to a different 'class' of people?"

"You could say that, yeah. Scott was a jock wannabe. I never took him seriously."

"No? Not even when he told you that he knew what you did to Matt?"

Lassiter spoke up. "That is purely conjecture, detective."

"Is it, counsellor? Scott and Matt were close, and when Matt died, Scott took his own look into what happened. He figured it out, just like we did. And he confronted Roger. When Roger's threats failed to make a dent in Scott's resolve, what choice did Roger have but to kill him? What did he tell you, Roger? Did he let you in on a secret?"

"Secret? Some secret! I suspected a long time ago that the little weirdo was gay!"

"Shut up, Roger!" Lassiter warned.

"You didn't hear the shit he was saying, Dad! I had to shut him up!"

Lassiter waved a hand. "My client has nothing more to say."

Eames closed her folder. "He's said enough. Do you want to tell us about Kelly's role in this?"

"Kelly? Are you for real? I could never get that little tramp to quit talking about herself! If she'd thrown out that damn pill crusher like I told her to...Who the hell misinterprets 'Get rid of this?'"

Eames looked at Goren, then back at Roger. "So who gave you the information about Matt's allergy?"

Roger crossed his arms and ignored her. His father leaned back with a satisfied smile. Goren held up another evidence bag, one containing a piece of paper. "The same person who wrote this note that led Scott out onto the baseball field the afternoon you killed him?" Goren moved away from the wall. "What kind of threat was Scott to you? He didn't confront you about Matt, did he? So what did he do? Did he threaten to out you, Roger?"

With a primal growl, Roger leapt over the table, knocking Eames out of the way. He hit Goren hard and body slammed him into the wall, driving his head and shoulders into the one way glass. Under the force of the impact, the glass shattered.

Eames got to her feet and ran at Roger, burying her shoulder in his side and knocking him off balance and away from Goren, who slid to the floor amid shards of glass and blood. The teen swung his fist around and struck Eames in the side of the face.

Roger was pulled away from her, but not by her partner. Deakins stood to the side as three detectives struggled with Roger, who continued to fight as they muscled him back to his cell.

Steven Lassiter had watched the entire scene from his chair, a look of pride and satisfaction on his face. He sneered at Eames when she looked at him, and he pointed an accusing finger at her. "Your bastard partner got what he deserved. My son is _not_ gay!"

He rose and walked past Deakins, out of the room. Eames looked toward the hole in the wall where the one way glass had been, caught offguard by the sight of her unconscious partner. Ignoring the blood that oozed from a small laceration on her cheekbone, she dropped to the floor beside him as he groaned and began to move. "No wonder you didn't play defense," she murmured as she touched his cheek, leaning down to try to determine the extent of his injury. "God, Bobby. You always have to push it."

He raised a hand to his temple. "Did you get the number of the truck that hit me?"

"Very funny. Just lay still. There's an ambulance on the way."

"I don't need an ambulance. I'm fine."

She looked at the pool of blood under his head. "Uh-huh. Sure you are. And that's cranberry juice pooled under your head, right?"

He slowly sat up, then got to his feet in spite of her protests. He staggered a little, and Deakins grabbed his arm. "You should get checked out, Bobby."

"I'll be fine, captain. No ambulance."

Deakins hesitated, then nodded at a nearby detective. "Cancel the bus."

Ten minutes later, Goren sat quietly at his desk, a towel draped around his shoulders. Eames grabbed a four by four gauze from the first aid kit open on his desk. Ripping it open, she held the gauze in a gloved hand while using the tweezers in the other hand to pull glass from the open wounds in her partner's head. She dabbed at the blood with the gauze and placed another shard of glass on the paper towel beside the first aid kit.

Goren fidgeted and she smacked his shoulder with the heel of her hand. "Hold still."

The veteran detectives in the squad smiled at the scene. They had long been impressed by Eames' ability to hold her difficult partner in check. She was full of fire, and Goren responded to her, not out of fear, but out of respect.

Finally, Eames grabbed another gauze and, ripping it open, pressed it against his head. "Hold this in place. I think I got all the glass out but you're going to need stitches."

He turned his head to look at her, studying the darkening bruise around the bandaid on the right side of her face. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, raising her hand to her sore cheek. "It's fine. Roger made Daddy proud."

"Roger is now facing two counts of aggravated assault on a police officer, in addition to his two murder charges. He'll never face Daddy as a free man again."

Eames closed the first aid kit as Deakins approached. He dropped Goren's binder and Eames' folder on the desk. "Are you both all right?"

They nodded, but Eames added, "He needs stitches."

Deakins nodded at her. "You probably do, too. Get going. I'll see you both tomorrow."

"Captain..." Goren began.

"Tomorrow," Deakins insisted as he walked away.

* * *

Goren laid quietly on his side as the doctor behind him stitched his head. Eames sat in the chair at his bedside. It took three small stitches to close the laceration on her cheek, and now she waited patiently for the doctor to finish with Goren. "So...you didn't expect Roger to lose his cool, did you?"

"Uh, I knew he would. He just snapped a lot sooner than I expected, and a lot more violently."

"You knew he was volatile, but you had to keep pushing."

He shrugged. "That's what gets results, Eames."

"I warned you, one day you'd push too far and it would come crashing down on you."

"I know you did. But I didn't expect it to be so sharp."

She almost smiled as they waited for the doctor to finish the last of the stitches. When the doctor left the room, he sat up and she rose to stand by him. "He only had to tell you to hold still three times. Not bad."

He gingerly patted the back of his head and winced. "Ouch," he said, giving her a half-grin.

"You got lucky, Goren. You could have really been hurt."

"But I wasn't, and we got Roger."

"Is that all that matters to you? Is getting the bad guy more important than your safety?"

He tipped his head to the left, his eyes questioning. "You know I'll do whatever it takes to get to the truth."

"And when someone else's safety interferes..."

"That's not fair, Eames. I have never compromised anyone's safety but my own. I have no right to do that."

"What about me? It's part of my job to watch out for you. So when you play Superman and step in front of a speeding bullet, where does that leave me?"

"I'm not stupid. I miscalculated. But it all worked out."

"You can't guarantee that every time. What happens when you underestimate a suspect with a gun?"

"That's different. I never intentionally antagonize anyone with a gun. Eames, I'm just doing my job."

She leaned closer. "Just...be more careful. If you have to be wrong, try to err on the side of caution, will you?"

"I'll do my best. Are we still holding Kelly?"

"Yes, but she wasn't involved in any of this, was she?"

"Her involvement is peripheral. Like Roger said, she's too self-involved to pay much attention to anyone else. We don't have anything that will stick to her."

"Too bad. But Roger didn't do this alone."

"No, he didn't. His accomplice told him about Matt's allergy and helped him plan Scott's murder. I don't think Scott was on to Roger; he was too obvious a suspect. I think he was on to his accomplice."

"The report you got as we went into interrogation...the handwriting match. That told you who it is."

He nodded. "It confirmed her identity. It was Bethany." He slid off the stretcher and pulled on his bloody shirt. "I, uh, I'll need to stop by my place to change before we go to arrest her."

"Bobby..."

"I'm fine, Eames. We still have work to do."

He grabbed his jacket as a nurse came into the room. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Back to work."

"Detective, we should observe you for signs of a concussion..."

He waved a hand impatiently. "I just needed a few stitches, and now we're done. So if you have something for me to sign, I'll get out of here."

The nurse looked at Eames, who sighed. "I'll watch him."

Ten minutes later, they were driving toward Bethany's house. It was ten-thirty at night.

* * *

Bethany's mother was surprised to find the police on her doorstep at such a late hour. Goren shifted, apologetic. "We're sorry to bother you, Mrs. Walters, but we need to see Bethany. It's important."

"Tomorrow is a school day. She's in bed."

_Who's bed?_ Eames wondered. "We need to see her now."

A voice from the stairs called down. "Ma? Who's at the door?"

"It's the police, Tim. They want to talk to your sister."

"Oh. Uh, I forgot to tell you. Beth said she was spending the night at Kelly's."

Eames stepped through the doorway. "It's not nice to lie to your mother, Tim. We saw Bethany with Roger Lassiter when we arrested him. Now where is she?"

Tim stood on the stairs, surprised. After a long pause, he shook his head. "I don't know. She told me...she was going to Roger's. Why'd you arrest him?"

Goren grabbed Carol Walters when she faltered, ignoring Tim's question. "Get down here and take care of your mother. We'll find Bethany."

* * *

Eames pulled up in front of her house at three a.m. They had not had any luck finding Bethany, but the search was still ongoing. True to form, Goren hadn't wanted to stop looking, but Eames insisted they take a break for a few hours. He'd argued with her, but his protest wasn't as spirited as it usually was.

They got out of the car and she opened the front door. "How's your head?"

"I'm fine. How's yours?"

"Nothing to worry about."

He read her fatigue and insisted, "You're tired, Eames. Go to bed."

"Can you promise me you'll be here when I get up in the morning?"

"I promise I won't go anywhere."

She knew he needed to unwind before he could relax, and right now he was like a coiled spring ready to let loose. She went into the kitchen and returned with two tumblers. She handed one to him and sat on the couch, picking up the remote and turning on the television.

He watched her, puzzled. "Eames?"

She began flipping through the channels. "Just sit down and watch. Look. Mummies."

"Eames..."

Ignoring him, she kicked off her shoes and propped her feet on the coffee table. Taking a drink, she said, "I'm relaxing."

He sat down. "Relaxing? You fell asleep in a stakeout van."

"That was from sheer boredom. Which Pharaoh is this?"

He watched for a few moments. "Uh, Amenhotep IV."

"Tell me more."

"Eames..."

She poked him playfully, trying to get him to settle down. "Come on. I know you know more."

He huffed. "He's also known as Akhenaten, and his chief wife was Nefertiti. He was a Pharaoh of the Eighteenth Dynasty, just before the reign of Tutankhamen. Are you bored yet?" There was no answer. Leaning forward, he studied her sleeping face at length. "I'll take that as a yes."

He took her drink and set it on the table, pulling the afghan from the back of the couch and gently covering her with it. "Good night, Eames," he said softly, lightly touching her cheek below the bruise.

He slipped the remote from her hand and scrolled slowly through the channels as he finished the scotch he knew she kept on hand for him. He removed his shoes and stretched out his legs, rubbing his temple to chase away a lingering headache. Gradually, fatigue encroached upon him, and finally, he slept.


	16. Tying It All Together

Goren shifted in his sleep, but something kept him from moving freely. He shifted in the other direction. No improvement. Something rested on his chest, heavy enough to restrict his movement. Slowly, he opened his eyes. It took a moment for his situation to register in his sleepy mind, but once it did, he was fully awake. In his sleep, he'd laid back, against the arm of the couch. Sometime during the night, Eames had also stretched out, somehow ending up lying on top of him, with her head resting on his chest. His body's reaction to his predicament slid him toward a mild panic. He hoped the pounding of his heart would not wake her as he wondered how he was going to get out of this with his dignity intact. He had encountered this situation in his dreams many times, but being faced with it in reality was another thing entirely.

Gently, he began to slide out from beneath her, shifting her toward the back of the couch. She stirred as he moved her, extending her arms over her head and stretching. That only made matters worse for him and he softly groaned. She opened her eyes, and gave him a sleepy smile. He could only stare at her. It took a moment for her position on top of his body to register. Her eyes widened and she slid off him to sit at the end of the couch. He felt a mixture of relief and disappointment, with a generous helping of embarrassment thrown in for good measure. He sat up. "I, uh...I didn't...we just..."

She wouldn't look at him; the atmosphere between them was awkward. "It's all right, Bobby," she assured him, trying to sound confident.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, suddenly anxious to be anywhere else. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to chase away the dull ache that throbbed behind his eyes. "We, uh, we should be going as soon as possible. We still have to find Bethany."

Relieved, she rose from the couch. "Give me fifteen minutes to shower and change," she said.

While she was getting dressed, he took a quick shower and donned a clean suit. As he came into the living room, she set a cup of coffee on the table for him, along with two aspirin. He smiled at her as she sat down across from him. "Thanks." He motioned his finger around his own eyes. "How...How are you?"

"A little sore. You?"

He shrugged. "I have a headache."

"Do you need to take a day?"

"No. We have work to do."

She took a sip of coffee, knowing better than to argue with him. "So, do we have a plan?"

"We haven't received a call saying they found her, so I guess she never made it home last night. The last place we saw her was in Roger's bedroom. I imagine she left after his arrest. I don't think his father would have welcomed her presence when he got home."

"Do you think she'll go to school today?"

He shrugged. "Stranger things have happened. We have no proof she's on the run. She knew her mother would think she was in bed asleep, and there's no reason for her to believe we would try to track her down."

"So...back to the school?"

"It's a good place to start."

Neither of them mentioned the circumstances they'd found themselves in when they woke, but it wasn't far from either mind as they left her house.

* * *

They were not particularly surprised to discover Bethany absent from school. As they walked back to their vehicle, Goren said, "We need to street Kelly and follow her. They seem to naturally gravitate to each other."

"You're sure Kelly's not involved in this?"

He nodded. "We can charge her as an accessory for hiding the pill crusher for Roger, but she'll probably get probation. Her role is very peripheral and unwitting. I don't think she knew anything about what was going on. Her only real concern was whose bed she was going to roll around in before she went home for the night."

"I like her better behind bars."

"Bethany is the one we need right now, Eames."

She nodded reluctantly. "Alright. We street Kelly and see where she goes."

* * *

Eames took care of the release once they ran it past the captain and got the okay from Carver. Kelly looked around as Eames returned the personal property they'd confiscated from her on her arrest. "Where is Detective Goren?"

"He's around somewhere. Sign here."

Kelly signed the paper. "He's responsible for getting me out of here, isn't he?"

"Actually, no. It's the DA who ordered your release. We don't have the authority to just turn people loose. Detective Goren had nothing to do with it."

"I'd like to say hello to him."

"Sorry, Kelly. I'm not sure where he is. I guess you'll have to wait for another time."

Kelly huffed in anger as she pushed her belongings into her purse. Without another word to Eames, she stormed out of the holding area and across the squad room. Eames watched her, aware that the girl was still looking for Goren. Once she got into the elevator, Eames sent a text to her partner. _On her way out. Be right there._

She took the stairway and met Goren in the parking garage. Sliding behind the wheel, she drove to the exit, arriving in time to watch Kelly hustle down the street away from the headquarters building, talking on her cell phone. "Funny how she didn't have that cell phone the night she called you from the Bronx," Eames commented.

Kelly hailed a cab, and they tailed it until she disembarked at Hudson University. Eames pulled into an empty spot at the curb, stuck the NYPD placard in the window and trotted after her partner, who was already striding toward the dorm building Kelly vanished into. "Bethany's brother," Goren muttered. "Who conducted the search of his room last night?"

"I have no idea."

They had Tim's room number in the dorm, and they called for a marked unit to respond to the building, confident they would find Bethany hiding out in her brother's dorm room. They took the elevator to the seventh floor and knocked on the door of room 721. After a minute, Tim opened the door. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and his hair was disheveled, his face flushed. Kelly didn't waste any time. "May I help..." He trailed off when he recognized the detectives. Maintaining his composure, he squared his shoulders. "Yes, detectives? Did you miss something last night when your people invaded my place?"

"We're looking for your sister, Tim," Eames told him. "And don't think about lying to us. We can bring you in, too, for harboring a fugitive."

"Fugitive? What do you think she's done?"

"Step out of the way, Tim," Goren cautioned.

Reluctantly, Tim let them into his room. Kelly was sprawled on the bed, naked, as she waited for Tim to return. Bethany sat beside Kelly, not wearing a shirt, and they were giggling. Tim smiled at the girls as Eames came to a halt. Goren took in the scene and had the sense to leave the room immediately. Eames could handle the girls; he needed to stay away from the trouble they tended to cause. "Where is he going?" Kelly demanded.

Eames let out a sigh of exaggerated patience. "Get dressed, Bethany. You have to come with us."

Delighted, Bethany jumped up and pulled on her shirt. "With you and Detective Goren?"

_This is just getting worse,_ Eames thought as she noted Kelly's dark look. Now Bethany was using Goren as a weapon to make Kelly jealous. But why? What purpose could that possibly serve?

Kelly leapt from the bed and trounced toward the door, determined to prove Bethany wrong. After all, Goren was just doing his job. But with her, it was different. After all, he had kissed _her_, not Bethany.

Eames held up a hand, halting the naked girl. "Set one foot outside this room, and I'll arrest you for indecent exposure. And I promise you won't be held in our squad."

"But I want to see him!"

_I guarantee he doesn't want to see this much of you,_ Eames thought, recalling his embarrassment at finding her asleep with him that morning, and she had been fully clothed. But she remained diplomatic. "He is working, Kelly."

"Well, then, I guess I'll see him after work," Kelly snapped testily.

Eames watched her turn and stomp back to the bed. She motioned at Bethany. "Let's go, Bethany."

The girl stepped into her shoes and walked to the door. She turned and looked at her brother. "I'll call you later, Timmy. Don't tell Mom."

"She's gonna find out, Bethy."

"Let's figure out what's going on first."

Eames tugged her arm and guided her from the room. In the hallway, Goren turned her to face the wall and cuffed her as Eames told her the charges and her rights. They led her out of the building.

Bethany was visibly disappointed when the detectives handed her off to the officers from the marked unit, even though they were transporting her to Major Case. She looked out the window of the patrol car, watching Goren until they turned the corner and he was no longer in sight.

As they drove away from the Hudson campus, Eames said, "That was smart, leaving the room."

"I didn't want any part of that scene. I knew you could handle it."

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. He grinned. He knew how to get to her, even when he said something stupid. "For that, you're buying dinner," she said.

He turned his attention to the city beyond the Explorer, but he smiled.

* * *

Deakins watched from behind the glass as his detectives entered the interrogation room with Bethany. He wondered why the girl didn't seem more nervous or upset about her predicament. That was some collection of kids that went to that school. It made him glad he hadn't sent his girls to private school.

He folded his arms over his chest as Carver joined him, and he filled Carver in on what was happening. "This is the Walters girl. Goren and Eames are convinced she's somehow involved in these murders."

"Are we chasing another bout of intuition?"

Deakins smiled. "I think they have a little more to go on this time than Goren's gut."

Carver leaned against the wall beside the glass and listened as the detectives began.

Goren lingered in the corner as Eames began the questioning. "Did you know Matt well, Bethany?"

Bethany's eyes continued to dart back and forth, from one detective to the other. "We've been in school together since kindergarten."

"And Roger?"

"Yeah. Roger, too."

"What about Scott?"

She shrugged. "I didn't know him so well. He moved to the area when we were in the fifth or sixth grade, but he and Matt were, like, best friends."

"Did you have a best friend?"

"Of course. Sally was my best friend until high school. Then she moved away. I hung out with Stephanie until this summer, when I met Kelly."

"You and Kelly just kind of clicked."

She smiled. "Yeah. We clicked."

Goren came forward and sat beside Eames. "Do you share the same interests?"

"A lot of 'em, yeah."

"Like...uh, like what?"

"We just like hanging out. We always have fun."

"Hanging out isn't an interest. What kinds of things do you like to do?"

Bethany traced her finger over the table and shifted, not looking up. "We like sports and shopping."

He tapped his binder absently, and her attention was diverted to his fingers. "And sex?" he asked casually.

Bethany smiled. "Sure. Sex is fun."

"You...you like to, uh, watch, and Kelly likes to, to perform."

Her smiled remained in place. "Yeah. Today was the first time I got to watch her with my brother, until you interrupted."

"Was Tim...uh, watching, too?"

"Watching? You mean me and Kelly?" She giggled. "Well, yeah...that really seemed to turn him on."

Goren heard the disgusted noise Eames made under her breath. He continued, "Who else likes to watch?"

"Roger. Roger loves to watch."

Goren stood up and began to pace. "And Matt? Did Matt like to watch, too?"

"Matt? No. Matt never watched us. In fact, he never slept with Kelly. That's why she went to Roger and the other boys. Matt never seemed to mind."

"Did you ever date Matt?"

"Yeah. Last year. He never slept with me either, so I went to Roger. Roger never turned a girl away."

Eames resumed the questioning. "Bethany, did you know about Matt's allergies?"

"I know he was allergic to poison ivy. We went camping once and he was almost scared of the stuff. It was kind of funny."

"What about any medication allergies?"

"Well, I had an ear infection once, and he wouldn't even kiss me until I was done taking all the medicine."

"Do you remember what the medicine was and why he was so careful?"

"Sure. I was taking some kind of penicillin, and he was really allergic to it. So we really didn't see each other until I was done with it. I just went to see Roger."

"So Roger knew about Matt's allergy?"

"Sure. I complained about it a lot. I couldn't believe Matt was being such a wuss. I mean, he wouldn't even take me to the movies. I broke up with him a couple of weeks later."

"Did you date Roger?"

She giggled again. "Roger doesn't date. Roger plays the field. He'd never be bothered with the boring parts of dating...movies, dinner...no, Roger just wants the sex. And he gets what he wants."

The glow in the girl's eyes turned Eames' stomach. "So Roger snaps his fingers and you come running?"

"Sure. He knows how to make a girl feel great."

Goren returned to his chair. "Did Roger ever add drugs into the mix?"

"Some pot, sure." She looked thoughtful, and Eames wondered if it was painful. "He liked to give me juice..." Her eyes took on a faraway look and she giggled some more. "It's the best juice I've ever had, and it makes sex...wow...."

"Did Roger ever tell you what kind of juice it was?"

"I thought it was just grape juice, but he said it was special grape juice. For Kelly it was orange juice. Sometimes, he'd get us both together and give us our juice...and sometimes he gave us silly drinks. He called them fuzzy navels or buttery nipples. Aren't they silly names? But they were _so_ good. And then Kelly and I would go at it before he had his turn." She smiled, leaning forward as if to tell a secret. "You know, sometimes, Kelly and I would get some drinks and maybe a joint or two, and we'd go someplace and, you know, play around. But it was never as good as it was when Roger gave us that juice."

"How often do you get together with Roger or Kelly?"

She shrugged. "With Roger, every week. Sometimes twice. But Kelly and I are together every day, sometimes just us and sometimes with other guys."

Goren raised a finger. "One more thing. Scott. You wrote the note, asking him to meet you on the baseball field."

"Roger asked me to write the note. He didn't tell me why or who it was for."

"Why did you write it?"

"He said if I did that little thing for him, we'd go to his place for juice and cookies, him and Kelly and me. How could I say no?"

"Right. After you wrote the note, did you go with Roger?"

"Why would I do that? I had history, and Mr. Carsten is really cute."

Goren and Eames looked at each other. "Just sit tight, Bethany," Goren said as he stood. "One of us will be right back."

The two detectives joined Deakins and Carver in the observation room. The captain looked at them. "Well?"

"Roger's pawns," Goren said. "Both girls were involved, but they had no idea what they were involved with. Roger managed to get their cooperation without letting them know the big picture. Ultimately, Roger is our guy."

Carver nodded agreement. "Do you have anything concrete I can use to prosecute those girls as accessories?"

Goren shrugged. "We have the pill crusher used to turn the penicillin that killed Matt into powder. We found that in Kelly's locker, but Roger admits he asked her to get rid of it for him. And then we have the note that drew Scott out onto the baseball field to be killed. It's in Bethany's handwriting..."

"But she says Roger asked her to write it," Carver mused. "And it doesn't have Scott's name on it anywhere. It's all dust in the wind."

Goren nodded. "They didn't know what they were involved with. But Roger was smart. He was casting reasonable doubt on his guilt."

Carver agreed, laying a hand on Goren's arm. "If he'd kept silent yesterday, it may have worked. Good job, detective. How is your head?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Carver."

Carver looked at Eames. "And you, detective?"

She nodded. "Just bruised."

"Good. You can turn Miss Walters free when you're done with her. Roger Lassiter will stand alone for these murders."

He left the room. Deakins looked back into the interrogation room. "Please tell me all girls are not like those two behind their parents' backs."

"All kids come with their own special brand of headache," Eames said.

Goren was watching Bethany. "Some are helped along by their parents, one way or another."

Eames watched him, not certain he was referring solely to Roger, Kelly and Bethany. He seemed to draw himself from a faraway place. "So what do we do with Bethany?"

"You heard Carver. If you're done with her, send her home."

"I'm done," Goren said as he looked at Eames for confirmation.

"Yep," she agreed. "I'll set her loose so she can go back to Kelly or whoever."

Goren leaned against the wall, watching through the glass as Eames told Bethany she could go, offering for an officer to take her home. Bethany declined the offer and left the room, hips swinging. He let out his breath on a soft sigh. Whatever happened to shy, modest girls, the ones who chased after teenage boys and were simply happy to get kissed? Did they even exist any more?

Eames came back into the room, noting the pensive look on his face. "Do I want to know what you're thinking?"

"If I ever have a child..." That likelihood was seeming more and more remote, but he had still not completely dismissed the possibility. "...how do I prevent _that_?"

Eames face softened from her usual hard stoicism, her work face, and she approached him. She leaned against the wall on the other side of the glass and watched him twist his hands the way he did when he was nervous or he didn't know what to do with them. She understood his concerns because she'd felt the same ones, especially as this particular case had progressed. She also had a feeling he was still reeling from Scott's murder. He had identified very strongly with that boy for some reason he hadn't yet fully revealed to her.

"That," she agreed. "Is a normal parent's nightmare. I think Bethany's mother would faint if she knew. Roger's mother would probably cry. The only mother in this whole sick tribe who seems to have her eyes wide open is Kelly's mom, or Kelly would still be in England dating men twice her age."

"But instead of dealing with the problem, she foisted it off on her sister. That wasn't exactly the responsible thing to do."

"No, but at least she did something."

He let out a long, slow breath. "Raising girls...it's hard work."

Her soft look morphed into a warm smile. "Raising any kid is a challenge. Just make sure you're up to the challenge before you commit to it. Otherwise, something incredibly beautiful can become an unmitigated disaster."

He gave that a moment's thought before he left the room. She left him alone to think about what she'd said, fully intending to talk about Scott after they left work. She was very curious to find out why this boy was so different to Goren. And she was determined that he would discuss it with her, so she mentally braced herself for an impending war of wills.

* * *

As they worked on the forms and reports that needed to be completed for the case, Deakins approached them. "Okay, do you think we've dealt with all the players in this case?"

Eames nodded. "I think so."

"Good. Make your knots bullet proof when you ties up your loose ends. I don't want Steven Lassiter to find any frayed edges to pick at."

Two hours later, Eames set down her pen and rubbed her tired eyes. "I've been seeing double for the last forty five minutes. I think I'm done. You ready to call it a day?"

He looked around the top of his desk, hesitating. But it wasn't fair to keep Eames out because he had a tendency to get bored. "Do you think I still need to stay at your place?"

Recalling Kelly's reaction when they arrested Bethany, and her promise to see him after work, Eames nodded. "Yes. At least for a few more days, until we figure out a way to discourage Kelly once and for all."

He shrugged reluctantly and shuffled his papers together. His throbbing headache was back, the tolerance limits of his body fast approaching. Stuffing the folder in his binder, he said, "Let's go, then. I think I owe you dinner anyway."

"That sounds like a plan. And yes, you owe me dinner for making me deal with that orgy or whatever it was."

He followed her to the elevator with a trace of a smile on his face.


	17. Discouragement

Abruzzo was a small Italian restaurant, tucked away on a side street in the Financial District. Eames looked around the cozy restaurant with approval. "Very nice," she said.

"I'm glad you approve," he answered with a smile. "It's named for the Abruzzo region of Italy, east of Rome."

They were shown to a small table in a quiet corner. As Eames opened her menu, Goren said, "There is regular Italian fare here, and the pasta is the best I've had in the city. If you're feeling adventurous, you can order from the right side of the menu. But I should warn you, traditional Abruzzo dishes are spicy, and Luigi was born and raised in that region of Italy. He uses traditional spice and hot peppers."

She nodded slowly. "My stomach isn't feeling particularly adventurous tonight. I think I'd like to sleep without heartburn."

"Then I would suggest you avoid Centerbe as an accompaniment. It's a liqueur but it packs a real kick. If you want wine, I would recommend the Montepulciano d'Abruzzi or the Controquerra, if you want to try a local vintage."

Eames stared at him for a moment before she smiled. "Come here often?"

"I know the owners," he explained, focusing on his menu.

She closed her menu and challenged him. "Order for me."

He looked up. "You trust me that much?"

She laughed. "If I can trust you with my life, I think I can trust you with my dinner."

Once he'd ordered and the waiter delivered their wine, Eames decided it was time to begin the discussion she'd been pointedly avoiding. She took a bite of a breadstick and chewed thoughtfully. "There's something I want to know, Bobby," she began.

"What's that?"

She took a sip of wine. "You and I have worked a lot of murder scenes, and I have never seen you as shaken as you were when we found Scott's body. His murder seems to have hit you really hard. Why?"

He shifted uncomfortably and took a deep drink. It was obviously not something he wanted to discuss, but she felt a need to know the answer. Vaguely, he said, "He was a nice kid, Eames."

Remembering Angie Suarez, she knew that it was a factor, however, she felt there was a deeper reason. "A lot of our victims have been nice kids who didn't deserve to die. But there's more to this one. Something about Scott makes him different for you."

He continued to stare at his wineglass as he swirled the ruby liquid around. Finding Scott's body on the school's baseball field had been a shock, and he had not been successful in suppressing his reaction, especially from Eames. There was more to it than the unexpected murder, a lot more. The waiter returned with their meals before he said anything.

He watched Eames stir her pasta before she looked back at him expectantly. He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "A long time ago, a kid named Nick was beaten to death because he was gay."

She got the sense that this was not going to be easy. "You knew him," she said with certainty.

He nodded. "We spent a lot of time together. The night he was attacked, he was on his way home from a club in the Bronx. I was with him."

"A gay club?"

He looked surprised for a moment before he answered, "No. I had no idea he was gay until after he died. But it explained why I was the only one who ever followed through after a night of flirting."

She'd had various opportunities to see him charm women, but she wondered what he was like in full flirt mode. _Irresistible_, she decided. "What happened?"

He hesitated, recalling the unfortunate events of the night Nick died. They were on their way home after a full night of drinking and flirting. They'd gone two blocks after getting off the subway and weren't far from their respective homes. Four young men, armed with baseball bats and pipes, came out of an alley, men they knew by sight from the neighborhood. Being the bigger of the two, he had tried to defend Nick. Nick had never been a fighter and, back then, he had not been a negotiator. So he fought hard for both their lives.

Subdued, he spoke quietly. "A couple of guys armed with bats and pipes jumped us. I woke up in the hospital the next day; Nick died two days later. There was a lot about Scott that reminded me of Nick, and finding his body like that..." He took another drink, trying to swallow the sorrow that welled up in him. "Nick was my friend, and I don't have too many of those. They never found his killers, and his death pushed me one step closer to law enforcement."

"You didn't always want to be a cop?"

He smiled at her. "I didn't grow up like you did, Eames. My dad had no love for cops. Until I went into the Army, I hadn't given it any serious thought." He poked at his meal. "Dad wasn't too happy to find out I was injured defending a gay man, but when I became a cop, his disappointment in me was complete. Nothing I ever did suited him, and being a cop was the final straw. Neither of my parents ever saw worth in me."

His last statement cut into her like a knife, and she felt his pain. She couldn't empathize because she had long been her father's favorite, but she did understand that he hurt. "I hope you got over that," she said simply.

"Some days," he answered, watching her take a bite of her dinner.

She closed her eyes, savoring the rich pasta and perfect noodles enhanced by a wonderful blend of spices and a rich undertone of clams. Opening her eyes, she was surprised by the intensity of his expression, though it changed as soon as he realized she was looking at him. "This is delicious," she said, choosing to lighten the mood for the moment.

"Best in the city," he responded with a small smile.

She took another bite, pleased when he began to eat, too. She eased the conversation toward lighter matters as they finished eating. As she finished her last glass of wine, she looked around the cozy room. She had a better view of the front door than he did, so when it opened, she glanced that way. She was surprised to see Kelly enter the restaurant with a young man she recognized from the school. Her mind searched for a name. Todd, that was it. Todd Faraday. A cross-country runner. She wondered if Kelly finally took their advice to heart and turned back to dating boys her age, until she saw the girl search the room. A smile of satisfaction spread across her face when she saw the two detectives. Eames felt a hot lump of anger form in her gut as she realized that Kelly must have followed them. This had gone way too far, and if she waited for Goren to do something about it, the girl would never get the hint. It was time to do something drastic and hope for the best.

Eames leaned over, around the table and motioned to her partner. "Come here, Bobby."

He didn't hesitate to lean toward her. He trusted her, and she hoped her actions would not betray that trust. She reached toward him, slipped her fingers into his hair, and kissed him full on the mouth.

Stunned, he didn't react for a moment. Then he began to kiss her back, which surprised them both. When he traced her lips with his tongue, they parted and he explored her mouth. He tasted parmesan, marinara and wine. The world beyond their kiss ceased to exist.

She withdrew slowly, and he let her go reluctantly. When he opened his eyes, he searched her face for an explanation. She offered none. No words formed in his head. His body was on fire and he shifted against the tightness in his pants. What the hell was going on?

Eames glanced past him, toward the table Kelly occupied with Todd, but she had no time to warn Goren when Kelly rose and marched over to their table. "I can't believe this!" she snarled.

Goren looked up, surprised, and then he frowned. "Excuse me?"

Eames could see the temper rising in his face. That was not a good sign, and Eames wondered if her partner had reached the limit of his patience. Kelly, however, took no notice. "What are you doing with _her_?" she demanded.

To his credit, Goren kept his voice low. "Who are you to think you have any say in my life? You're a child, Kelly. Quit chasing after men. You need to continue playing around with kids your own age, and leave the grown-ups alone."

Kelly glared at him. "How dare you speak to me that way!"

"I'm tired of your games," he replied. "I don't want any part of them. Now go back to your date and leave me to mine."

"I can't believe you're seeing her, after the way she treated me."

Goren shook his head. "I have my own life, and I will live it as I see fit. My personal life does not, and will never, include you. You need to move on."

With a shriek of rage, Kelly grabbed the tablecloth and yanked, sending everything on the table crashing to the floor. The two detectives jumped to their feet as the candle ignited the carpet. Kelly stormed from the restaurant in the confusion as Goren grabbed a pitcher of water from a nearby sideboard and put out the fire.

The waiter came running, muttering apologies for the disruption. Goren waved a hand and dismissed the man's contrition. "It's not your fault." He pulled out his wallet and laid four twenties on the table. "If that doesn't cover the damage, tell Giovanni to call me."

He motioned to Eames, and they left the restaurant. By the time they got outside, Kelly was nowhere in sight.

Goren began walking down the street, away from the car. Eames could read tension in every move he made. She trotted after him. "Bobby, wait..."

He spun suddenly. "You _knew_ she was there!" he growled, his eyes dark and stormy. "You knew and you didn't _say_ anything! Is that why you kissed me?"

"She followed us to that restaurant. One of us had to do something to discourage her."

"And you think that will do it? Did it occur to you that it would make her even more territorial?"

"You are not her territory!"

"No, I'm not. I'm yours. Go on home, Eames. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You can't go home..."

"I'm not planning to. Good night."

Helplessly, she watched him walk away down the street.

* * *

Goren walked aimlessly for the better part of an hour, lost in his head and paying no attention to anything around him. He was not afraid of the streets of New York. He grew up on these streets and he'd spent many hours out in the seedier parts of the city. When he was a teenager, Frank would sometimes take him on drug runs. Years later, he spent many undercover hours in bad areas while he was with Narcotics. He knew what was out there, and none of it scared him.

But when he found out where he was, he was shaken. Ground Zero. He hadn't been back to this area in the three years since the towers fell. Stepping up to the fence surrounding the now vacant site where the Twin Towers had dominated the lower Manhattan skyline for almost three decades, he looked into the pit, and he remembered. Two beautiful buildings, reduced to rubble in 102 minutes and peppered with the souls of the 2750 lives they took with them. Among the fallen were three hundred forty-three firefighters and twenty-three of his brother cops. Four of them he'd known; one had been his partner in Narcotics. He remembered how scared Eames had been, though she tried not to let it show. She was worried for the lives of her brothers. They'd driven to the scene, arriving not long after the collapse of the second tower. It hadn't taken too long to reunite her with her brothers: Mark, a firefighter, and Kevin, a beat cop who had responded to the call. Sweaty, dusty and exhausted, they were beaten down, but physically unharmed. Emotionally, none of them were untouched.

He'd left her with her brothers and walked around the area, helping search for survivors, as unlikely as it was they would find any. And his mind drifted. The enormity of what had happened was too large to comprehend in a moment, even looking at the destruction all around them. Terrorism. The dark cloud of terrorism, heavy-handed and shattering, had struck at the heart of America, and that pain was still raw.

Now, almost three years later, he walked around the site perimeter and looked into the pit, mostly cleared of the debris from the collapse of the towers. But the memory of the Twin Towers, martyrs for the survival of the free world, had not faded. People had gone back to their lives, but the tragic events of that September morning stayed with them and so did the fear that it could happen again.

Life was unpredictable and could take a turn for the worse at any moment. He continued to look into the pit as he recalled his unstable childhood and early adult years. He'd been unfocused with no real identity or aspirations for his uncertain future, which he had difficulty envisioning. The past had taught him the hard lesson that the future wasn't anything to look forward to. The Army had cleared up some of the uncertainty and given his life direction. His identity was inextricably tied to his job and his mother. He was Frances Goren's youngest son. He was Alex Eames' junior partner. He was a cop. But he still wasn't sure just who Robert Goren was.

He took his time trolling around the perimeter again before he pulled out his phone and called his partner. "I'm sorry," he murmured into the phone. "We need to talk...Yes, I'm better...Ground Zero."

He slid the phone back into his pocket. She was on her way to pick him up.


	18. The Path Diverges

Goren stood leaning against the fence surrounding the pit, his fingers gripping the chain link as his forehead rested against it. He looked at the ground where the towers once stood, reflecting on the past. He heard a car door close, but did not move when Eames joined him at the fence. For him, the dark depths of the pit, not fully illuminated by the city lights, represented the past. It was not a good past, not for him.

Beside him, the partner who had not abandoned him, the friend who accepted him as he was, represented the future, a future that was uncertain, but seemed brighter than what he'd left behind. She had kissed him in the restaurant as a ploy to discourage Kelly, but that kiss, at least for him, had turned into something more. But what had it meant to her, if anything? Bracing himself for rejection, he silently reached toward her. With a light touch, he guided her toward him; she did not resist. Turning, he dipped a little at the waist and he kissed her, leaning into her when she did not pull back. Her arms encircled him, the fingers of one hand sliding into his hair as the other stroked his neck. He shuddered and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She closed her lips around his tongue and sucked. He caught his breath and swallowed a groan.

Slowly, he ended the kiss and drew back a little, bringing his hands to rest on her waist. She settled her hands on his chest, beneath his coat and suit jacket. Softly, he said, "You kissed me because of Kelly, but it became something more, at least for me. What about you?"

She rubbed his chest with her fingertips, increasing the tightening in his pants. He struggled to remain focused, but she was making it difficult. "Yes, Bobby," she answered. "It was something more for me, too."

"So what now?"

She studied the pattern of his tie. "I don't know."

He watched her. She wouldn't look up at him, and her hair draped down over her face. He wanted to kiss her again, but it would be wrong to pressure her one way or another. This was too important to decide on the spur of an intense moment. Instead, he said, "This has never happened to me before."

She looked up, her mouth quirked into a grin. "You've never had an intimate relationship with a partner before?"

He laughed, genuinely amused. "Uh...no. You are the closest I have ever been to any partner. What about you and your partners?"

"Not a chance." She considered his laughter and grinned. "You've never had a female partner before, have you?"

"No, I haven't." He studied her face. "So, what do we do now?"

She shivered, though she wasn't certain if it was from the cold or from emotion. "Firstly, we get out of the cold. Let's get coffee or something. Maybe a piece of pie. Then we can talk."

He nodded, acknowledging their need to talk. He was confused and had no idea what to do about it. He watched her step away from him, and he followed her.

* * *

They entered a small coffee shop and sat in a quiet corner. They ordered coffee and Alex asked for a piece of cherry pie. She started off the conversation. "Why Ground Zero?"

He shrugged. "I was just walking and that's where I found myself. I haven't been there since the day the towers fell."

"Something must have brought you there tonight."

"I don't know what. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

He sensed they were at a crossroads in their relationship, just as he was at a crossroads in his life, where the past and the future intersected. If he chose to continue down the road he was currently on, nothing would change. Aside from the job, his life would remain empty and lonely. But there was another choice: the road less traveled. The way was fraught with uncertainty and the potential for so much to go wrong. Was it worth the risk? Watching her stir sugar into her coffee, he realized it was a decision they had to make together. This was not something either of them could decide independently.

He took a drink of his coffee and began to steer the conversation toward the potential change in their personal dynamic. "You chose a pretty dramatic way to send a message to Kelly."

"That's what Kelly understands. Dramatics."

"You sure set her off." He shifted in his seat. "But what about me, Eames?"

She looked up from her pie. "Did I set you off, too?"

He looked almost embarrassed. "In a very different way, yes. You did. You gave me no warning, caught me way off guard."

"I'm sorry about that." She hesitated. "But back there, at the fence...what was that?"

He stared into his coffee. "That was a test. I wanted to see if anything about that kiss in the restaurant was real."

"And what did you find out?"

He was still hesitant to put himself all the way out on the fragile limb he found himself sitting on. "First, I want to know what you were thinking."

She was just as reluctant to put herself out there. "Where is this going, Bobby? What does it mean for us? Because once we set ourselves down that path, there will be no going back."

"What path is that, Eames?" he asked, wondering if they were talking about the same road.

She reached across the table and stroked the back of his hand, studying his face as she did. "The one that puts that heat in your eyes when I touch you like this. The one that sends shivers up and down my spine when you look at me a certain way. It's a one-way street, and we have to step onto it together. There will be no going back once we take that step. Is that something you can handle?"

"I...I'm not sure. The only thing I can do is try."

"And if it doesn't work? We'll never again be the way we were after being lovers."

"No, we can't. But I think we can make it work, either way. I can't change how I feel, Eames. My emotions are genuine. If you think it's too much, then we should step back now, before it's too late."

"I don't know if it's too much, Bobby. But don't you think we've already stepped too far into it?"

He shook his head. "It's not too late yet."

"Can you step back, forget any of this ever happened?"

"No, but it's not something that will tear me apart. I can deal with it."

"Can you deal with it if we set the ball in motion?"

He considered that, and he was confident he could handle loving her...if she could deal with him. To him, that was the biggest risk. Could she handle him? "I will. What about you?"

She took another bite of pie. "Do you always analyze your relationships like this?"

"I am not a spontaneous person, Eames. I don't like to...make mistakes."

"This could be a huge one."

"Or it could be the best thing that ever happened to either of us."

She finished her pie without responding as her thoughts whirled in her head. He watched her without saying anything. Finally, she set down her coffee cup and gathered herself to leave. He followed her lead, paying their tab and holding the door for her as they left the diner.

As they walked away from the diner, back toward Ground Zero, where Alex had left her car, she finally spoke, intending to make herself very clear right at the get-go. "Bobby, I can't force my love life into any kind of schedule. There has to be some spontaneity, or what's the point? I need that from time to time. I like to be caught off guard once in awhile by the man I love."

He gave that some consideration as they walked. She had more experience in this than he did—after all, she had once been married. By now, she would know what she wanted from a real lover as opposed to a casual date or a one-night stand...or a friend.

Spontaneity... He would never have guessed that, not of her. She liked things spelled out for her. But if she enjoyed being surprised on a personal level, he was willing to accommodate her, hoping it would be something that, for once, would not blow up in his face.

Out of the blue, he reached toward her and slipped his arm around her waist. With a firm tug, he spun her toward the side of the building they were passing. She made a sound he chose not to identify as he held her against the wall with his body. Tipping to the side, he caught her mouth in a searing kiss that shut down his mind and heated his body. He rested his right hand on her side as his left slid along her jaw, under her ear, to rest against the side of her neck.

The kiss took her breath away and turned her legs to jello. Her body relaxed against his and she surrendered to the passion that flared between them. Her hand found a place on his hip as her other arm slid around his neck. Unconsciously, she moaned into his mouth as his tongue tangled with hers.

Slowly, reluctantly, he withdrew from the kiss, trying to ignore the effort it took him to do so. As he pulled back, he paused beside her ear to whisper, "Spontaneous."

When he stepped away, she was surprised to find her legs able to support her weight. He sure caught on quickly. It took an effort she almost did not have to turn and continue walking toward the car, unable to respond right away.

Uncertainly, he followed, wondering if he'd done the right thing. But try as he might, he could not find it within himself to regret it. Being spontaneous always got him into trouble, and he wondered if this time would be any different. Every part of him wanted it to be, but he was nervous that it would turn out as disastrous as it always did when he let his emotions take the lead.

She stopped beside her car, unlocking it and sliding in to unlock the passenger door. Inserting the key into the ignition, she started the car and turned her head to watch him settle into the passenger seat. Reaching out, she placed her hand behind his head and stroked his hair.

He turned his head to look at her, arching one eyebrow. She smiled before turning her attention to the street outside the car as she eased away from the curb.

The ride to her house was quiet, but not uncomfortable. She let them into the house and went right in to the kitchen. Goren slid out of his coat and hung it by the door, looking toward the kitchen. She wanted to be alone. He let out his breath slowly, unwilling to upset her by pressuring her. It was best to give her the time and space she needed to sort things out. He had some sorting to do himself. "Uh, I'll see you in the morning. Good night, Eames."

He hustled down the hall to the spare bedroom before she could reply. Quietly closing the door, he crossed the room and opened the window, a lifelong habit that started when he was a boy, trying to drown out the sounds of his parents arguing. As always, he found comfort in the sounds of the city. Slowly, he took off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Sliding out of his shirt, he slipped off his shoes and changed into a pair of sweats before turning off the light and laying on the bed.

He tuned in to the sounds outside and realized it had begun to rain. Cars whooshed along wet asphalt as they drove by the quiet house. Raindrops gently pattered against the street, the sidewalk, the leaves that blanketed the yard around the house. Maybe he should rake them up for her...or would that upset her because she would read into it a different message than the one he intended to project? He hated uncertainty. Shaking off his negative thoughts, he again focused on the rain, now falling more heavily. It was a comforting sound, familiar. His mind drifted as he relaxed, recalling his partner's mouth, soft and sweet, against his. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the memory.

He wasn't sure if he drifted off or not, but he jerked to awareness when he felt a hand on his chest, and he opened his eyes. Eames sat silently on the edge of the bed, her hand resting on his bare skin. He moistened his lips and watched her curiously. She seemed concerned, which was confirmed when she asked, "Are you all right?"

He rested his hand over hers and squeezed. "Yes. I'm fine. Are you?"

She nodded. "I just have some thinking to do."

"So do I," he agreed.

Leaning down, she gave him a soft kiss. "I don't want to rush into anything this important. One way or another, it will change our lives."

He hesitated for a moment. "Your, uh, your husband..."

When he trailed off, not sure how to phrase his question, she drew in a deep breath. "I have to come to terms with him, too. It's complicated."

Of course it was. He had never in his life chosen an easy road. He would not know what to do if he ever found himself on one. "No pressure, Eames."

"Thank you," she replied with a sad smile. Impulsively, she gave him another kiss, lingering just a bit longer, before she whispered good night and left the room.

_Great_, he thought. _So much for sleeping..._

A light breeze fluttered the curtains that framed the window and he took a deep breath of the fresh, rain-kissed air. He forced himself to focus on the sounds outside the window, and after awhile, he no longer needed to make the effort. His full attention was caught by the world beyond the small house, quiet sounds that had often lulled him to sleep when his busy mind spun in so many circles. Finally, he did drift to sleep, and for a change, the monsters stayed away.


	19. Drama, Drama, Drama

Eames lay on her side in the dim light that filtered in through the window, her head resting against soft pillows. She was looking at the framed picture beside her bed. It had been in the same place, wherever she lived, for most of the last six years, since the day it was taken. _With this ring, I thee wed...Til death do us part. So why haven't I been able to move on, Joe? Why can't I let you go?_

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She realized with dismay that it was more and more difficult, as time passed, for her to see Joe's face in her mind if she wasn't looking at a picture of him. She could no longer hear his voice; she forgot what his touch was like. But she never forgot that she loved him, that she missed him, that she had been unable to love another since losing him.

In the back of her closet, beside her own dress uniform, hung Joe's spare dress uniform, still covered in plastic from the cleaners, still pressed and spotless. His name tag—_Dutton_--was pinned precisely in place and shone as if it were new. Every time she moved to a different home, she hung the uniform in the same place in her bedroom closet.

Now she wondered...was she ready to enter into a relationship that could potentially add another uniform to her closet? A uniform a couple of sizes larger, with an equally shiny name tag that read _Goren_? One that was graced with a purple heart from a line of duty shooting. He'd never told her if he'd gotten it in the military or in New York, when he was a patrolman or a Narcotics detective. He'd never said much about it at all, and she had never asked. She knew there was a good chance he would never open up to her, but she found herself willing to give him an opportunity to tell her about his scars.

And that made her wonder about the scars that had been left on his soul. They were both damaged by a life that had been cruel, though in different ways. After losing Joe, she found herself unable to give her heart to another man. She had promised herself she would never love another cop. And yet, here she was, wondering if she could keep her promise. She also wondered if Goren's upbringing had damaged him to the point that he couldn't love. No, she didn't believe that. He was capable of love; she could sense that in him. But he was very stingy in giving it out, and she wondered if he had ever truly loved a woman. She could see him falling into a relationship based on physical desire, but love? It was a question she wasn't sure even he could answer.

There was so much uncertainty, so many unanswered questions. Was she tempting fate by even considering entering into a more intimate relationship with him? Was it something either of them really wanted? Was it even something they could handle? He seemed more certain than she was, and that made her wonder even more. Joe had been gone for six years, and he was never coming back. She should tuck his memory and his love into a protected corner of her heart and move on. Bobby would never ask her to forget him. He would never feel threatened by the ghost of her husband. But could she share him with his demanding mother? Would his mother feel threatened and make it difficult for them to have a relationship? Could he divide his love like that? She was not sure she wanted to put that kind of burden on him.

When she finally fell asleep, images of Joe and Bobby's mother taunted her, and she could not chase them away.

* * *

After showering and dressing the next morning, Eames stepped out of her bedroom and smiled. Fresh coffee. He greeted her with a small smile. "Give me five minutes and I'll have your breakfast."

"I haven't been to the store this week, so I know there's not much in there to work with."

"There's enough. We don't have to head in to the squad room right away, and I need to go to my apartment, if you want to go to the store while I'm gone."

That didn't sit well with her. "I'm not so sure about that..."

"Eames, I'm not going into hiding. I won't let this...this child intimidate or terrorize me."

She gave that some thought as he placed a plate with eggs, bacon and toast in front of her. She was uncomfortable letting him go to his place without her. "I won't let her cost you your job. It's a very bad idea to confront her alone, without back-up, if she shows up at your door. I'll go with you."

He sat across from her with a non-committal shrug. "Suit yourself, but how likely is it she'll show up?"

She took a bite of egg then pointed at him with her fork. "For such a genius with a frightening understanding of warped, criminal minds, you are totally clueless when it comes to the mind of an obsessed teenage girl. She'll show up. I can almost guarantee it."

He didn't respond to that immediately, and they ate in silence. He broke the silence with a quiet question. "So how do I get rid of her?"

"That's a hard one. I doubt a restraining order would have much impact on her."

"I won't let her chase me out of my home. She won't disrupt my life any more than she already has." He took a drink of coffee. "She didn't react well when you kissed me..."

"No, and she nearly set the restaurant on fire."

"Maybe we should go talk to her aunt and uncle."

"I don't guess it will hurt, but I doubt it will do any good."

After breakfast, they drove to Goren's Brooklyn apartment. Goren waited on the sidewalk as Eames came around from the driver's side of the car. Gently placing his hand at the small of her back, he guided her past him and followed her into the building.

As they approached his apartment door, he pulled his keys from his pocket. Sliding the key into the lock, he paused to look up and down the hall. Before he turned the key, he leaned down and kissed Eames, gently sliding his arm around her to hold her close. Her fingertips touched his jaw until he drew back. With a quiet laugh, he whispered, "Spontaneous."

She laughed as he unlocked the door and they went into the apartment. It took a few minutes for him to gather together clothes to take to the cleaners and repack his bag. He watered his plants and then nodded at Eames. "All right. Let's go."

After locking the door, Goren turned to follow Eames down the hall. Both detectives stopped when a shriek sounded from behind them. They spun as Kelly ran toward them. "How can you do this to me?" she screamed, her hands buried in her jacket pocket as she moved.

Goren took an instinctive step forward, unbuttoning his coat so he could reach his gun if he needed it. Kelly stopped a few feet in front of them. She glared at him with red eyes, her face streaked with tears. "How could you!"

Goren's brow furrowed. "How could I what?"

She was bordering on hysteria. "Betray me like this!"

Goren remained calm, though he could feel Eames' tension as she stepped closer to him. He held out his right hand and said, "Kelly, calm down and explain how you think I'm betraying you."

"Calm down?! When you're with her?!" She pointed a shaking finger at Eames. "Her!"

He raised both hands and moved a step closer to Kelly. Eames touched his back to urge caution. "Calm down, Kelly. Detective Eames is my partner. I spend a lot of time with her."

"But-But you _kissed_ her! How could you _do_ that?!"

_It was much easier than I ever thought it would be,_ he thought. But to Kelly, he said, "That is between her and me. Kelly, there has never been anything between you and me. There never could be. You're a child; you're still in high school. For God's sake, I'm old enough to be your father."

"Age doesn't matter! It never does!"

"It does to me."

"No!" she shrieked again. "No! No! No!"

Her body began to tremble as she pulled her hand out of her pocket. When they saw the gun clear her pocket, both detectives acted. Goren stepped toward her, grabbing her arm and thrusting it toward the ceiling as Eames dodged under his arm and grabbed Kelly. Goren snatched the weapon from her hand as Eames dragged her to the floor and subdued her. Once she was cuffed, they dragged her to her feet. Goren held the gun in front of her. "What the hell, Kelly? It's not even a real gun! Do you realize something like this could get you killed?"

"You care about that?"

"About the taking of a life? Yes, I do. I also care about what it does to the officer who has to fire that shot." He looked at the fake gun in his hand and shook his head. "Kelly Larimer, you're under arrest for the attempted assault of a police officer."

"You can't do this! Not you, not to me!"

He looked at Eames briefly before he grabbed his clothes and they led her to the elevator. She was still protesting as they put her in the car. When Eames tossed the keys to her partner and slid in beside Kelly, the girl started protesting even louder. It was a long ride to 1 PP.

* * *

They left Kelly screaming and swearing about how unfair everything was and they drove across town to her aunt and uncle's apartment. Melanie Worster answered the door. "Detectives," she said, surprised. "Kelly told us you found out who killed Matt."

Eames nodded. "We've come to see you about a different problem, Mrs. Worster."

"Please, come in."

She offered coffee, which they declined, and invited them to be seated. "Please don't tell me Kelly is in trouble again."

Eames glanced at Goren before she spoke. "Last night, we ran across Kelly in a restaurant. She seems to have some delusions about herself and my partner. She became upset when she saw us there together, and she almost set the place on fire."

Melanie gasped and covered her mouth with one hand. "She didn't! I thought she was over that."

"Apparently not."

Goren shifted uncomfortably. "Mrs. Worster, we just arrested Kelly. She was waiting outside my apartment this morning, and she accosted us with a gun. The fact that it was not a real gun doesn't change the fact that she could have been killed. All a cop had to do was mistake it for a real gun and feel that someone was threatened by it. If she failed to drop it, she would have been shot."

Eames added, "She lucked out that Detective Goren has a tendency to talk his way out of a situation rather than shoot his way out of one. Most cops are not like that, myself included."

Melanie's shocked look did not change. "Oh, dear Lord. I don't know what to do with that girl."

"She's out of control," Eames insisted.

"We've tried, but she doesn't listen to anyone. She's 18 years old, and she knows she can do whatever she wants. We tried to lay down the law, you know, our house, our rules. So she moved out. We haven't found out where she's staying. Her father is on his way to New York to take her back to London. He is a force to be reckoned with and the only one I know who can make Kelly do something she doesn't want to do...most of the time."

Eames sighed. "We can hold her, but whether or not she gets charged is up to the DA. Her father will have to talk with him."

Melanie looked from one detective to the other. "Thank you for not overreacting and shooting her. She's a handful, but she's really not a bad girl. She's immature and a little wild, definitely used to getting her way. We're hoping she'll outgrow all that."

The detectives rose and Eames said, "Let us know when the ambassador arrives and we'll talk to him."

"Thank you, detectives, and I do apologize for any trouble Kelly may have caused."

They left the apartment and walked to the car. Eames paused by the front fender as Goren handed her the keys. "A little wild, my ass," she scoffed. "She doesn't know the half of it. We can keep Kelly for 24 hours without charging her to give her father a chance to get here, but do you think Mr. Carver will drop the charges and release her?"

He shrugged. "I guess that depends on how convincing we are when we present it to him."

"Do you really think it's a good idea to set her loose again? At least if she's in jail, she's not going to be that bad penny and keep turning up."

"Carver can make it a condition of her release that she go home with her parents and stay out of trouble. We have options if she comes back and causes more trouble."

"So you're not worried about her potential to harm someone?"

"Not particularly. Like you said last night, Kelly thrives on dramatics. That's her fallback position. But I don't think she'd hurt anyone."

"She was waving a gun at us."

"But it wasn't real. It was dramatics."

"Dramatics that could have gotten her killed."

"I don't think that ever occurred to her. I think she thought it would get her what she wanted."

Eames made a noise as she walked to the driver's side. "She has another think coming."

* * *

Deakins was waiting for them when they got back to the squad room. "What's going on with our guest?"

Goren dropped his binder onto his desk as Eames replied, "Her father is flying in from London to take her back to England."

"She's 18. She doesn't have to go."

Goren said, "I think Mr. Carver can convince her that it would be in her best interest to go home with her father."

"Do you think that's wise, letting her go?"

Goren shrugged. "Sending her home to her parents is a step above putting her in jail. I'm not sure it would serve any purpose to put her behind bars."

The captain motioned across the room, where muffled screams emanated from the holding area. "She hasn't settled down since you brought her in."

The big detective raised his hands. "I'm not going in there."

Eames nodded agreement. "That would be giving her what she wants. It's time for the princess to get a dose of reality. The world does not revolve around her and her tantrums won't get her what she wants."

Deakins agreed. "Let her scream. She'll run out of steam sooner or later. Have you wrapped up the rest of the case?"

"Roger's bail hearing is this afternoon. We should be there."

The captain looked at Goren. "Stay out of the holding area. Alex can deal with anything that comes up with Kelly before her father arrives."

Goren nodded and Deakins returned to his office.

* * *

The detectives sat at the back of the courtroom, waiting and watching. They were both surprised when Marcy Lassiter came into the courtroom with another woman. She sat near the front of the courtroom and waited for them to bring her son out to face the judge.

Roger's case was called and the boy was brought out to stand by his father. He stood in stoic silence as Carver and his father argued for and against remand. The judge took a few moments to consider the arguments before she ordered remand.

It was obvious that Lassiter's hold on his rage was tenuous. He spoke softly to his son before the bailiff led him off, then he turned and caught sight of Marcy as she stepped into the aisle to leave the courtroom. His eyes blazed as he stepped into the gallery and approached her. "You!" he growled.

The woman who was with Marcy stepped between her and Lassiter, but he grabbed her and shoved her out of the way. Goren and Eames approached quickly as Lassiter advanced on Marcy, who was backing away from him as he yelled, "How could you!"

Marcy looked terrified as she continued to back away, until she backed into the two detectives. Goren squeezed her shoulder as he stepped in front of her while Eames slid an arm around her to guide her out of the courtroom. Lassiter tried to get around Goren, but the formidable detective blocked his way. The lawyer shouted, "Get out of my way! I need to talk to my wife!"

Goren shook his head. "Sorry, counselor. She doesn't want to talk to you."

Lassiter watched Eames hustle his wife and her friend out of the courtroom. Her friend...how _dare _she have a friend he had not given his approval to! He turned his fury onto Goren. "This is your fault! You convinced her to leave me and let those freaks brainwash her!"

"I wish I could take credit for that, but Marcy made up her own mind. We just protected her once she did."

Lassiter shoved him and stormed past him. Goren turned and followed him, in case Eames hadn't had enough time to see Marcy safely to her vehicle. Eames was walking back up the courthouse steps as Lassiter exited the building. Unaware that Goren wasn't far behind him, Lassiter confronted Eames. "Where is she, woman? Where are you hiding my wife?!"

Stepping forward with every intention of grabbing her, he drew back his hand when she did not flinch away from him. His face registered shock when a hand curled around his wrist and jerked him around. Goren's face was stormy but his voice remained calm. "I know you were not about to assault my partner, now were you, counsellor?"

Lassiter's face was equally dangerous. "Let go of me."

Goren released him, confident he wouldn't threaten Eames again. Lassiter glared at her as she stopped beside her partner, then he turned and stormed off. "What an asshole," Eames muttered.

Goren nodded agreement and they walked down the steps toward the SUV. Once they were in the vehicle, Goren said, "You know, with Kelly in jail, I don't have any reason to stay at your place."

She had mixed feelings about that, so she didn't answer him. She was glad that he didn't pressure her for a reply. She pulled away from the courthouse and turned the corner before she asked, "Do you want me to take you home?"

"I have imposed on you enough," he replied, but his tone was open to interpretation.

"Suppose I don't consider it an imposition?"

She heard him move but couldn't bring herself to look at him. _What are you doing, Alex? _she demanded of herself._  
_

"Are you saying you want me to stay tonight?"

"Well, I'd planned on it."

_I was looking forward to it,_ her mind added. She'd forgotten what it was like, not being alone in the house. She'd forgotten what a nice, comfortable feeling it was, sharing her living space with someone who wasn't family, someone she cared about.

He looked out the window and tried to translate her words into feelings. He wasn't very good at that. Finally, he gave up. "Well, I did water the plants, so I don't guess one more night would hurt anything. If that's what you want, that is."

She wasn't willing to sound too eager, so she didn't answer immediately. Acting as though she were giving it some thought, she waited for awhile before she said, "I think one more night would be good."

"All right. One more night."

Neither saw the other smile at the thought of one more night, alone together under the same roof.


	20. Putting the Case to Rest

Eames came out of the kitchen with a pint of ice cream and sat on the couch, curling her legs beneath her. Goren watched her. She held out the spoon. "Want a bite?"

"No, thanks. I called British Airways. The ambassador's plane lands shortly."

"Jet lag or not, something tells me he'll turn up in the squad room bright and early."

He nodded agreement and forced his attention to the television, which Eames had put on the news. When she got up to return her ice cream to the kitchen, he watched her. He watched her as she returned to the couch and sat beside him again. With a swallow he gave in to impulse, leaning over to kiss her. Her lips were still cool from the ice cream, and he tasted mint and chocolate. His hand rested on her stomach, sliding to her side so he could pull her closer. Reaching up, she buried her hand in his hair, welcoming a deeper kiss.

She began to undo the buttons of his shirt, but was interrupted by the annoying ring of his cell phone. Reluctantly, she withdrew and he pulled out the offending device. "Goren," he growled, unable to filter all the annoyance from his voice.

She leaned back against the couch and listened to his end of the conversation. "No, captain. Nothing I can't get back to. Yes. We'll be there. I'll tell Eames. Good night, sir."

He ended the call and tossed the phone on the coffee table. "The ambassador's plane has landed and he'll be in the squad room first thing in the morning. The captain wants us there, prepared for battle. We arrested his little girl."

"Wonderful. I can't wait."

He rested his arms on his knees and clasped his hands in front of him, staring at them. The moment had passed. He sighed. "I guess...I, uhm..." He paused, then muttered, "Good night, Eames."

As he launched himself off the couch, she nodded, in agreement or understanding; he wasn't sure which. "Good night, Bobby."

Once in the bedroom, he closed the door and turned off the light, walking to the window, which he opened. He pulled off his shirt, then stood looking out into the darkness. His body was on fire and there was no way he was going to calm down enough to sleep anytime soon. So he stood there, looking out into the semi-darkness.

* * *

A short while later, a soft knock disrupted his thoughts. He turned at the waist as she entered. She watched his silhouette at the window for a few moments before approaching him, before reaching out to touch him. Her fingertips trailed along his collarbone, then down the center of his chest. "I want you," she whispered.

At first, he didn't move, but when he did, there was no hesitation. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her with a desperation driven by desire and need. She responded with equal lust. Long-suppressed emotions exploded forth in a maelstrom neither could control. Driven by a need for each other, they also found tenderness, compassion, and something very close to love. For the first time in a long time, they both slept deeply, undisturbed by nightmares or memories.

* * *

Michael Larimer paced restlessly in the bleak interrogation room as he waited for his daughter to be brought to him. He'd spoken briefly with the squad captain, who hinted at some kind of trouble Kelly had been causing, but he said the lead detectives would go into the details with him.

When the door opened, he expected Kelly to rush into the room, but she was not with the two detectives who came through the door. "Where is my daughter?" he demanded.

Eames walked to the table, noting that Larimer did not look like a man who had completed a transatlantic flight less than twelve hours ago. He was alert and pressed, not a hair out of place. Eames motioned toward the table. "Please sit down, Mr. Larimer. I am Detective Eames, and this is my partner Detective Goren."

"You're the ones who arrested Kelly?"

"Yes, we are. She was out of control, waving a gun at us."

"A fake gun, from my understanding."

"Do you have any idea how many people are shot because they came at the police with something that looked like a weapon? Real or not, we can't wait to find that out. Kelly could have been hurt or killed being foolish like that."

"My daughter would never hurt anyone."

"Whether that's true or not, we can't take chances."

Larimer sat down across from her, glancing suspiciously at Goren, who stood near the mirrored glass. "Your captain said Kelly has been involved in some trouble recently. My sister-in-law told me her boyfriend was murdered at school?"

"That's right," Eames answered. "Kelly had some involvement with the murder, but not directly. There are other issues that have concerned us more."

"Such as?"

"Your wife's sister told us that Kelly was sent here because of boyfriend troubles in London."

"That's partly true. Kelly was involved with an older man and one of the reasons we sent her here was to get her away from him."

"Mr. Larimer, your daughter is not as innocent as you might think she is. In fact, she has become quite fixated on my partner, to the point of stalking him."

Larimer's icy gaze shifted to Goren. "What did you do to her?"

Goren looked surprised. "Do to her? Nothing. I've gone to lengths to avoid her."

Eames's glare was as cold as the ambassador's. "Kelly hacked into several restricted databases using your passcodes, and she found out personal information about my partner that she had no business with. She used that information to attempt to cause problems for him, and since she showed up at his apartment, he was forced to leave his home to avoid her. Your daughter has gotten out of hand."

Larimer remained stoically impassive. "What are the charges against her?"

"Harassment, gaining illegal access to restricted databases, attempted assault with a deadly weapon..."

"A deadly weapon?"

"If it had been real, Mr. Larimer, there would be no 'attempted' in the charge. Kelly knew we would think it was real until we got it away from her. She trusted that we wouldn't hurt her, which was a huge gamble on her part. Most other cops would have fired first, and your daughter would be dead."

Her last sentence made an impact. The ambassador finally looked disturbed. "I would like to see my daughter," he said firmly.

Eames glanced at Goren, who stepped away from the wall. She got up and walked to the door. As he held the door open for her, Goren turned back into the room. "One more thing, Ambassador. We could talk to the DA. There is a chance we might talk him into a plea bargain that involves time served and probation if you take her back to England with you and she stays out of trouble. Just something to think about."

In the hallway, Eames said, "I'll go get Kelly."

Goren nodded and joined Deakins in the observation room, waiting for Kelly to be brought to her father.

* * *

When the door to the holding area opened, Kelly looked up from where she was laying on the cot in her cell. She frowned when Eames came into the room and approached her. "Come on, Kelly."

"Where is Detective Goren?"

"He's not here. Now come on. Someone else is here to see you."

Curiosity got the better of petulance, and Kelly let Eames guide her to the interrogation room where her visitor was waiting. She stopped just inside the door, and stared at her father. Deakins and his detectives were treated to a sudden transformation as Kelly the sex kitten became Daddy's little girl. "Daddy!"

She ran to her father and cried in his arms, explaining through her sobs how frightened she'd been. Eames looked at the one-way glass and rolled her eyes. Then she moved to sit across from them. "As you can see, Ambassador, your daughter is fine. But we will have to process her today for the charges against her."

Kelly pointed at Eames. "Daddy, I don't like her. I've asked her and asked her to let me see Detective Goren and she won't!"

Larimer frowned. "Why would you want to see him, Kelly?"

She bit her lower lip. "I like him, Daddy."

The ambassador let out a slow, patient breath. "Is this another scenario like we went through with Nigel?"

"Oh, he's much better than Nigel was."

"Kelly..." He sighed again. "Did you stalk the man?"

Kelly looked at the floor. "I went to his apartment a couple of times, but he wasn't there most of the time. He was with _her_."

"That is his business, Kelly. He discouraged you and that was the right thing to do. I agree that he's a better man than Nigel. He didn't take advantage of you." He looked at Eames. "Take her back to her cell, detective, and bring me to see your DA."

Kelly watched him stand and she sobbed, "Daddy..."

Larimer's face was grim. "You have brought this all on yourself, Kelly. I'll be back this afternoon. You get it set in your head that you are either coming home with me or you are going to jail. There are no other alternatives." He kissed her head. "I love you."

With another sob, Kelly left the room with Eames and Goren returned. Larimer looked at him. "I meant what I said, detective. Kelly has an unfortunate attraction to men who are older than she is, and many of them don't have the decency to turn her away. Thank you for not taking advantage of my daughter."

Goren smiled sympathetically. "Kelly is very persistent, but I don't date children, ambassador."

"Good for you. Now, if we can talk to the DA and get this situation all squared away, I would appreciate it."

"This way, sir."

They met Eames in the squad room and left to talk with Carver.

* * *

The detectives entered Carver's office as the ADA rose from his desk. "Detectives, I was just going to call you."

Eames motioned toward Larimer. "Mr. Carver, this is Michael Larimer, the U.S. Ambassador to the United Kingdom. He is Kelly Larimer's father."

Carver extended his hand. "The detectives told me you were flying in to discuss a possible plea bargain for your daughter."

Larimer nodded as he shook Carver's hand and got to business. "I would like to take Kelly home with me. I can assure you, her behavior will not go unpunished."

"Legally, ambassador, your daughter is an adult."

"But she is still my daughter, and she will do as I say."

Carver leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. "I am prepared to agree to a plea, but I will be crystal clear on this: if Kelly returns to New York and causes any trouble at all, she will find herself in jail, serving time for the charges that have been brought against her."

"I understand that, Mr. Carver."

"I will offer five years' probation provided you take her home with you and she does not return to New York during that time. After those five years, if Kelly meets all the provisions of her probation, the charges will be dismissed. If she fails to meet the requirements, or if she returns to New York, she will serve her full sentence of ten years."

Slowly, Larimer nodded. "My daughter has gotten out of control during the time she has been here and for that, I apologize. At home, she was never like this. We decided to send her back to the States when my wife became ill, to ease the burden on her. That decision backfired on us, and my wife's health has taken a turn for the worse from this stress. It will be to her benefit for Kelly to be at home again."

"Your daughter must agree to the terms, Ambassador."

"I'm certain she will."

"Very well. I will draw them up and have them ready this afternoon, say, at three o'clock."

"Thank you very much. I'll be back then. In the meantime, I'll be either in my hotel room or at the British Consulate."

He left the room, and Carver turned to the detectives. "I had an interesting visit from Mr. Lassiter first thing this morning."

Eames made a face. "He's not someone I would want to face first thing in the morning."

Carver smiled. "He wants to talk plea."

Goren remained leaning against the wall by the window, arms crossed. "What are you willing to offer?"

"Manslaughter with twelve to twenty, no parole consideration until ten. Otherwise, he's looking at a likely conviction with 25 to life, no parole."

"Hmpf," Eames muttered. "He's arrogant enough that I would have expected him to go to trial."

"He normally would," Goren answered. "But this is one client he actually cares about. This is his son, and he wants to cut him the best possible deal."

Carver nodded in agreement. "Exactly. This is the first time Mr. Lassiter has come forward actively seeking a plea."

"He's not confident enough of a win to take a chance," Goren added.

Eames asked her next question, knowing the answer. "What did he say?"

"He's going to take the plea. It's more than fair."

"Considering he was up for murder one, I'd say it's more than fair," she pointed out.

Goren uncrossed his arms and stepped away from the wall. "Time will tell what will become of Roger."

"What do you think?"

He met her eyes and gave it some thought. "It's hard to say. His father's influence turned him into a killer, but there's more to him than that. If he gets assigned to Riker's or Sing Sing, he'll have a hard time. A smaller prison with a less violent population could actually be good for him."

Eames sensed a deeper reason for his optimism, but she didn't push him. She held out hope that he would discuss it with her later.

Carver nodded. "I'll see what I can do about getting him assigned to a facility with a less hardened population."

The detective left the prosecutor's office and returned to the squad room to finish up their paperwork on the case. The only loose end they had left was Kelly. They would transport her to Carver's office at three and, hopefully, she would be on a plane for London with her father within the next day or so, after taking care of school and hopefully apologizing to her aunt and uncle.

* * *

At quarter til three, Eames went to the holding area with two uniformed officers who would transport Kelly to Carver's office. She and Goren got there just ahead of them, greeting the ambassador, who was early.

The ambassador was seated at the table in front of the desk, with Goren and Eames standing behind him near the window when Kelly was escorted in. Her face lit up to see Goren in the room. Then she saw her father's face, and she tried to hide her delight. She sat across from him and Carver, beside the lawyer her father had hired for her. As Carver went over the details of the plea agreement, Kelly's attention kept shifting from her father, to Goren, to Eames and back. Finally, Carver set down the papers he was holding and said, "Do you understand the terms of this agreement, Miss Larimer?"

"Yes," she lied.

"You understand that you cannot come back to New York for the duration of your probation. That's five years."

She looked surprised for a moment, then her lawyer leaned over to speak into her ear. She looked at her father, who nodded. Pursing her lips into a pout, she said, "All right. Whatever. I agree."

Carver's voice was stern. "Follow your father's advice, Miss Larimer, and stay out of trouble or we will withdraw this agreement and you will serve your full sentence."

He turned his attention to Larimer. Kelly was asked to sign several papers, along with her lawyer, and then her father signed one. Carver leaned back in his chair. "That will do it. The officers can release Kelly into your custody, Ambassador."

Eames said, "We have some papers for you to sign, Ambassador."

She stepped forward with a folder and leaned over to review the paperwork with Larimer. While she did that, Kelly watched Goren, who was deliberately tuning in to his partner and not looking at Kelly. Once the ambassador had signed the forms, Eames closed the folder and stepped back. "Good luck, Ambassador." She looked at Kelly. "I hope things work out for you, Kelly. This is a big break you're getting."

She gave Alex a look that conveyed jealousy and disapproval. She looked at Goren, who finally gave her a nod. "Good-bye, Kelly."

She watched him walk to the door with his partner, placing a light hand on her back as he guided her through the door ahead of him. Kelly frowned and her father shook his head. "Come on, Kelly. We'll sign you out of school tomorrow and you can say good-bye to your friends. We have a flight the next morning." He looked at Carver. "Thank you, Mr. Carver."

"Good luck to you, Ambassador."

* * *

Back at the squad room, Alex filed the papers with the rest of their case paperwork and brought the entire stack to Deakins. When she returned, she said, "Let's get out of here. We're done with this case."

She stopped with a frown when she saw his expression as he read the note he held in his hand. "What is it?" she asked.

He handed the note to her. It was written in a loopy but elegant script. _Dear Detectives, I find myself at a loss in finding the right words to express my gratitude to you. I feel so differently about everything in life since I left Steven. I am going to stay with my sister while I regain my bearings and get on my feet. I can never thank you enough for giving my life back to me. Marcy Lassiter_

She folded the note along its crease and handed it back to him. He slipped it into his desk drawer. "Let's get going," he said, suddenly anxious for fresh air.

Eames remained silent until she pulled out of the parking garage. "So, what are your plans for tonight?" she asked.

"How about dinner at my place?"

She smiled. "That sounds like a plan."

As she drove over the Brooklyn Bridge, she said, "Can I ask you something?"

He hesitated before cautiously answering, "Go ahead."

"You seem to have a deeper understanding, a sensitivity toward Roger. Where did that come from?"

He looked out the window, then down at the binder in his lap. Finally, he answered, "Roger had a tough upbringing. His father is overbearing and abusive, and his mother is quiet and accepting. He lived a dichotomous life, being strong in front of his father and sensitive when he was alone with his mother. But his father had no tolerance for weakness, and that was what ultimately drove Roger to kill. He would rather eliminate the competition than lose to him and have to face his father. I don't think that Roger is innately a killer. I think that he can still turn out right, if he spends his time in a less intimidating prison. Rikers or Sing Sing will destroy him, and I think that would be a loss."

"Where does this deeper understanding come from?" she asked, pushing for a more personal answer.

He didn't answer right away. They had left the bridge behind before he said, "It comes from the past, from my own childhood. I know what it's like to be willing to do anything to get your father's approval. I know what it's like to step into the line of fire to protect your mother. And I know how it feels when everything falls apart around you, the helplessness you feel when there's nothing you can do. Maybe Roger is too badly damaged to change. I once was, too. But I overcame that, and I think he can, if he wants to. Only time will tell."

She knew his father had been a poor role model, but she wanted to know more. "Was your father abusive?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "They...they both were, but for different reasons. With my mother, it was her illness. When she was lucid, she was a good mother. But the schizophrenia robbed her of that much of the time. It took me a long time, but I was finally able to forgive her. Now...I accept what happened, and I take care of her, protect her. I'm all she has. My father had no tolerance for my mother. He had no sense of fidelity or responsibility. He abandoned her when she needed him most."

When he didn't continue, she asked, "And what about you?"

He shrugged. "Frank was his favorite, his protege. I was an annoyance. And as I got older, I learned to hate him. I don't like that I do, but I can't help it."

She gripped the steering wheel to keep from reaching out to touch him, sensing that it would be the wrong thing to do. The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

* * *

Goren made salisbury steak with a beef mushroom sauce, mashed potatoes and green beans. He set the plates on the table and pulled the wine bottle from the refrigerator, where it had been chilling since they got home. Eames set two wine glasses on the table as he uncorked the bottle. He looked up after freeing the cork and said, "Can I ask you a question, Eames?"

Fair was fair. She nodded. "Go ahead."

He hesitated for a moment before he asked, "When you were with Joe, did you have a feeling of...of rightness?"

His question caught her offguard. "Yes. I did."

"It must have been...hard, to lose that."

"It was very hard. I never found that again...until now."

She saw wonder in his eyes as he reached out to her. His fingers grazed her cheek, brushed past her ear into her hair. His breathing quickened and she leaned closer, meeting his mouth for a kiss. When she drew back, she smiled warmly. "Come on, hotshot," she whispered. "Let's eat before it gets cold."

_fin_.


End file.
